AU1 An Abel Beginning with a Relative Twist
by KennaC
Summary: What would have happened had things been different when Nancy Clay and HM Murdock met? Just having some fun with an alternate story to Angels Shooting Fire which on reflection was kinda sappy well, I'm kinda sappy, so that's the way it goes.
1. Part I

**AN ABLE BEGINNING WITH A RELATIVE TWIST**

What would have happened had things been different when Nancy Clay and HM Murdock met? Just having some fun with an alternate story to _Angels Shooting Fire_ which on reflection was kinda sappy (well, I'm kinda sappy, so that's the way it goes). This version is more in keeping with the A-Team genre (probably still a little sappy – I can't help it).

Enjoy and please R&R – I really appreciate the feedback!

So far this is an innocuous story. Don't anticipate a rating any higher than T.

No, I don't own the A-Team, Mr. Cannell does. I just like to play with them in my head – but certainly don't make any money as a result.

I'd also like to thank Shawn Colvin, whose songs appear periodically throughout the story, including one off her new album, _These Four Walls_. If you've never had a listen, I highly recommend it!

Columbia 

Antonio Palumbo, a tall, handsome man with olive skin, smooth black hair and large, brown eyes, paced the second floor veranda of his Columbian hacienda in agitation. The minor skirmishes between his organization and that of his rival, Lorenzo Perez, had escalated into an outright war four weeks ago. Perez had had the audacity to raid his stronghold, and during the raid, Perez had kidnapped a woman. Palumbo wanted her back.

He walked behind the desk and took a seat, beginning to sift through the backlog of paperwork waiting for him. Drugs were big business, and his operation was one of the largest in South America. While many people had an overly romantic vision of what being a drug czar entailed, the truth was quite the opposite – there was still payroll to approve, business correspondence to review, and a million other mundane tasks required of any CEO.

A tall man, with blond hair, beginning to grey, walked through the office door and closed it behind himself, "Mr. Palumbo, I need to speak to you," Richard Nolan had come to a decision, and wanted to act on it, before he lost his nerve.

"What is it, Richard?" Palumbo asked impatiently.

"I have some information regarding Ruby James that may interest you," Nolan said enticingly.

Palumbo sighed in irritation, "Don't play me, Richard," he said impatiently, "I'm not in the mood for games."

"Perez doesn't have her," Nolan stated flatly, taking a seat, and sifting uncomfortably when Palumbo's head snapped up.

He looked at Nolan through narrowed, wary eyes, "Then where is she?"

Nolan smiled smugly, exuding more confidence then he felt. He knew if he didn't play this card right, he'd likely end up dead, "Likely in Langley, Virginia, by now."

"The US?" Palumbo's look was shaded, but he had set his pen aside and was listening intently.

"Yes – she was working for the DEA," Nolan looked at Palumbo directly, "So does Littleford . . . and so do I."

"Then tell me why I shouldn't have you killed, right now," Palumbo asked rising from behind the desk.

Nolan smiled confidently, not moving, "You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. I have no loyalty to the DEA," he looked at Palumbo calculatingly, to gauge his reaction, and noted the wary acceptance, as Palumbo retook his seat, "For example, I imagine you want to know what we've been doing down here for the last 14 months . . . and you want to know who Ruby James really is."

"And what do you want?" Palumbo asked folding his hands.

"I figure my years in the DEA could make me valuable to you. Perhaps valuable enough to finance my retirement," Nolan suggested with a smug smile.

"We shall see, Richard," Palumbo said, with an inscrutable smile, "We shall see."

Airfield Introduction 

Captain HM Murdock had just finished another shift at work, and was driving out to visit his unit, the A-Team, and Frankie Santana, a special-effects artist who had ended up embroiled in the mess that had landed them in their current situation. He was headed to the outskirts of Langley, Virginia to the Stockwell Compound, where the Team had been staying for the past year. Actually, the term 'staying' was really a euphemism for being incarcerated. Since they had agreed to the deal General Hunt Stockwell had offered they'd been allowed little freedom beyond the confines of the Compound – except for missions.

As he neared the Compound he saw Stockwell's limo pulling in the drive and decided to bypass the visit for tonight. Stockwell didn't like Murdock, and had made it clear to him early on that he wasn't welcome at the Compound unless invited, and he definitely hadn't been invited. That left him at loose ends for the rest of the evening.

Murdock really hadn't made a lot of friends in Langley, yet. There was the young woman who lived in the apartment near him, Erica. He had really liked her, but as she had begun to find out about his past, she'd started avoiding him, and had finally outright told him to stay away. He hadn't held down a job long enough to really get to know anyone, and since the encounter with Erica, he'd tended to keep to himself, preferring general anonymity to outright rejection.

He ended up at the little airfield outside of Langley, where Stockwell kept most of his aircraft, and that the Team had been flying out of for their missions. The one friendship he had struck was with the man who owned and ran the field, Doc Weston, and he thought he might as well stop and visit.

He walked into the main hangar and raised a hand in greeting to Doc, a grey-haired, portly man with a weathered face, and surprising green eyes that were alive with mischief. Doc was working at the front desk on a pile of paperwork, "What's up, Doc?" Murdock asked in a perfect imitation of Bugs Bunny, leaning on the counter and grinning at Doc with an imaginary carrot waggling in the air.

Doc smiled and shook his head, "Hey, HM. What are you doin' out here?"

Murdock shrugged and stood up, laying both hands flat on the counter, "Just got off work – need to unwind some."

"Still working over at Hamilton's?" Doc asked.

"Yep, at least until the next trip," Murdock said.

There was a clattering from over in the maintenance hangar that caught Murdock's attention. He looked over his shoulder, catching his first glimpse of a nicely restored Taylorcraft BC-12D sitting in the hangar.

"Nice wings," Murdock said with a low whistle, turning to take a better look, "Jesse workin' on it?" he asked, referring to Doc's most recently hired mechanic.

"Had to let Jess go yesterday," Doc said with a sigh, "I swear I'm never gonna find a mechanic worth keeping."

A young woman in grease-stained shorts and a ratty striped tank top, with long, reddish-brown hair pulled up in a haphazard ponytail came around the side of the plane, a wrench in one hand and a shop rag in the other. She shoved the shop rag into a pocket, stepped up on a riser and leaned under the open the hood.

Murdock looked on in surprise, "Who's that, Doc?" he asked quietly.

Doc looked over and smiled, "_That_ would be the owner of the T-craft – Nancy Clay," he laughed as the word 'shit' floated across to them, "She's been out of town for awhile, and is trying to catch up on maintenance."

"A mechanic like that could really improve your business, Doc," Murdock said jokingly.

"Sight better pilot than mechanic, but the view isn't bad," Doc said with a smile.

"She a decent pilot?" he asked curiously.

"One of the best out of this port," Doc said, adding with a nod, "Present company excluded, of course."

"She's single," Doc concluded significantly, looking at Murdock sideways, "And you two have a lot in common."

Murdock looked at Doc sharply, "Doooc . . ."

"You know, kid, you been hangin' out here more and more lately. It's not healthy," Doc smiled, "I mean, really, what normal young man would be standing here talking to an old fart like me when the scenery is so much better over there," Doc winked and picked up his pile of paperwork to head into the office.

Murdock watched Doc settle at the desk in the office, but made no move, until Doc looked up and prodded him, "Are you waiting for an invitation? Go!"

Murdock shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered over to the Taylorcraft. It was a really nice little airplane – he'd learned to fly in a similar plane. He wandered all around it, noting with interest that the interior appeared to be original.

Nancy was cursing under her breath at a stubborn bolt, when Murdock rounded the plane, "Nice T-craft," he said casually, as he moved towards where she was working.

The wrench slipped off and Nancy knocked her fist into the side of the plane, "Dammit," she said vehemently, then looked up at him, "Excuse me?"

"Nice plane," Murdock said, motioning under the hood, he added tentatively, "Having problems?"

Nancy stood up, laid the wrench on the side of the plane, and wiped her hands on the shop towel hanging out of her pocket. Her gaze was wary, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I . . . uh, no, we haven't met . . .," Murdock said with an uncertain smile. What would Face say now?

He pointed to the frozen bolt, "You try some WD40 on that it'll probably come loose," he offered, then decided that that probably _wasn't _what Face would have said, BA maybe, but definitely not Face.

She looked at him calculatingly, and he felt riveted by her eyes, which were wide set and sky-blue.

She seemed to come to a silent decision, and nodded, "Worth a try," she said, then turned "I'll hafta see if Doc has any . . ."

"There's some right over here - I'll get it," Murdock said eagerly, heading over to the shop cabinet, and pulling out a can. He walked back and handed it to her, "Spray it on and wait a minute, it'll probably come right off."

Nancy took the can with a cautious smile, "Thanks," she said turning and leaning over the engine to do just that.

Murdock's gaze wandered slowly up her legs, which caused him to blush as he realized what he was doing. When Nancy stood back up he was fiddling with the tools on the nearby bench, looking anywhere but at her.

"Hey, I don't think I caught your name?" Nancy said.

He turned and looked at her, had he forgotten to actually introduce himself? He thought in disbelief, "Murdock, um, HM Murdock," he said, holding out a hand.

Nancy reached to take his hand, then looked down, "Oh, sorry, 'bout that," she said, quickly wiping it on the shop rag, still hanging out of her pocket. She reached out and took his hand in a firm grip, "It's nice to meet you HM Murdock, I'm Nancy Clay."

"Yea, I know," Murdock said, realizing belatedly that that probably wasn't something Face would say either, "Uh, Doc told me."

She smiled at his discomfort, "You fly?" she asked.

His face lit up as a wide grin spread across it, "Yea, I love to fly," he said.

Nancy considered him for a moment, then turned back to the plane, "Think that bolt is free now?"

Murdock did a double-take, before realizing that it was a tacit invitation to follow, and walked over to the plane with her, "Probably . . ."

She had picked up the wrench and sure enough the bolt broke loose with just a little effort. She looked up at him as she unscrewed it, "If you help me finish this up, we could take her up for a midnight flight," she offered.

He smiled, slipping off his jacket, "I thought you'd never ask."

"You can take a couple minutes to think about it," Nancy said, a spontaneous smile lighting her face.

"Don't need it!" he said, reflecting the smile, then leaning under the hood to see what she was working on.

"I'm just doing a general tune up," she said, "I've been out of town for most of the last 14 months, so it's been awhile since I've given her the attention she needs."

Murdock gave a low whistle, "That's an A-65, looks brand new."

Nancy smiled proudly, "Yep, I rebuilt her, myself," She chuckled, "When I turned 15, Dad gave me a choice – a new car, or an old plane. It was no contest – Aunt Bea won hands down . . . even though she didn't run."

"My kinda girl," Murdock said under his breath, and blushed when she looked at him and said, "What?"

"Nothing," he said more loudly, "So you grow up around here?"

"No, in Chicago," she said, "How 'bout you? No, wait a minute, let me guess," she looked up into his eyes curiously, "Texas?" she ventured uncertainly.

"Just outside of Houston," he said in surprise.

Nancy smiled at him, "I wasn't too sure, there's only the slight remnant of a drawl left. You haven't lived there for awhile, have you?"

"No. Been livin' in LA for the last 10 years," he said.

"You just move to Langley recently?" she asked curiously.

"Yea, about a year ago."

"What brought you here?"

He shrugged, looking at her uncertainly, "Just decided it was, you know, time for a change of scenery."

Nancy glanced at his jacket, "Were you in the Tigers?"

"No, a friend gave that to me," he said, "I was regular Army. Flew Voodoo for a short time, but ended up flyin' a slick."

"Vietnam?" she asked.

"Yea," he said, "End of the war, spent a couple years in country."

"Couple years?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"Re-upped," Murdock said, with a shrug, "Guess I wasn't too sure how to live state side."

She was considering him with interest, "I imagine it was a much different world," she said, "Would require quite a bit of adjustment."

"Took me awhile. I . . .," he stopped, coming to a decision after just a few seconds hesitation, "I spent some time in the VA when I got back . . . in the psychiatric ward."

Nancy's gaze didn't waver, "Post Traumatic Stress?" she asked quietly. When he shrugged, she bent under the hood again, saying ruefully, "Doesn't matter. Once they name something, makes it unlikely they're gonna cure you of it, anyway."

Murdock hadn't expected that reaction, "Well, I can't really blame the Doc," he said, feeling a need to defend Dr. Richter, "He tried, but I wasn't very cooperative. I really wasn't in a big hurry to . . . face things on the outside."

"I can identify," she said, speaking as casually as if they were discussing the weather, "After awhile, you want to get better, but you really aren't too sure what they're expecting. It's like you've forgotten how to be normal."

Murdock was considering her curiously, and she looked slightly uncomfortable, but tried to explain, "They didn't have a label for it when I was a kid – but looking back on it, I'd say PTS would have been a pretty decent diagnosis."

"What happened?" he asked.

"My Mom was killed," she said distantly, then she looked at him and shrugged, "I was there, but I don't really remember."

"Maybe that's why I decided to take Human Psych when I went to college," she said with a grin, "The shrinks in Chicago hadn't been able to figure me out so I had to do it myself."

"You seem normal enough to me," Murdock said, then chuckled self-consciously, "'Course, I did spend the last 10 years living in the mental ward of a VA hospital."

Nancy bent back under the hood, "Did you get that little piece of paper that says you're sane, or did they just give up and let you slide?"

Murdock shrugged, "Doc said I was hopeless – too sane to be crazy, too crazy to be sane. In the end, he figured there was nothin' more he could do to help, so he signed my release."

"So, are you enjoying the big, wide world?" she asked.

"Yea, it's OK," he said, then looked over at her and smiled thoughtfully to himself, "And gettin' better all the time."

They worked companionably for the next hour, completing a thorough tune up and enjoying each other's company. They talked mostly about the different aircraft each had flown and their various flight characteristics, as well as discussing Aunt Bea's restoration.

Nancy stood up from under the hood, pushing some stray hair out of her face and leaving a smudge of grease on her forehead, which matched another that was on her cheek.

Murdock was watching her, and when he went to stand up, knocked his head into the hood, "Ouch!"

"Are you OK?" Nancy asked.

Murdock stood up, rubbing his head, "Yea, only external damage," he said. He held out a shop rag, "You got some grease on your face."

He wiped tentatively at the smudge on her cheek, but the towel was dirty and merely moved the smudge around, "I don't think I'm helping," he said ruefully.

Nancy took the towel from him hastily, surprised at the reaction that his touch had aroused, and hoping it didn't show on her face. She held it out to show him how dirty it was, "I think a clean towel would probably help," she said, laughing self-consciously.

"Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile.

She grabbed a clean towel off the bench, wiping her face, getting most if not all of the grease, and then wiped her hands.

"Ready to give her a try?" she asked in anticipation.

He nodded, and as she jumped up into the cockpit, Murdock put the hood down. After he'd stepped away, she turned the engine over and it purred.

Her smile was broad as she leaned out, "She sounds terrific, HM," she said happily.

Murdock gave her a thumbs-up and she motioned to him to get in, "C'mon, we can clean up when we get back."

Doc hollered from over by the desk, "Hey – flight plan."

"Low eastward sweep, Doc – and I'm loaded. Shouldn't be gone more than an hour," Nancy said, smiling cajolingly at him, "File one for me, huh?"

Doc pulled a blank form over, as Nancy and Murdock settled into the plane, shaking his head. As they pulled out into the end of the runway, Doc checked the radar and radioed out to make sure they were clear. Air space here was generally pretty free, but they were on the outer edge of the flight pattern for the air force base.

Nancy pulled a headset on, and indicated the other for Murdock. The cockpit of the plane was cramped, and their shoulders brushed frequently as they ran through the preflight in preparation for takeoff. Murdock was finding it difficult to concentrate with her so close, but before long the excitement of heading into the sky took over.

"All set, Doc?" Nancy said into the head set when they had finished the preflight.

"You're cleared for takeoff – head southeast, Nan," Doc said, "There's maneuvers tonight."

"Roger," Nancy said, checking the windsock and beginning her takeoff run.

Murdock watched with interest as she took off in a fairly strong crosswind, holding the plane steady and adjusting as necessary to counter the wind. As they lifted off, she turned, a broad smile on her face, "Takeoffs are a little rough in this kinda wind, but you can't beat her once she's in the air."

She banked and headed southeast, keeping fairly close to the ground.

"She flies nice," he said approvingly, "Looks like you gotta be pretty light on the controls."

Nancy nodded, "She's touchy, takes a gentle hand," she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the joy that was apparent on his face, "You wanna give her a try?"

"You bet," he said, his smile widening happily. He gripped the wheel as Nancy yielded control.

"Just take it easy, flyboy," she said, chuckling, "She's no Voodoo, and certainly nothin' like a slick."

"You ever fly a chopper?" he asked, banking to get a feel for the give in the control – it was just like he remembered.

"Yea, but not much air time," Nancy said, "It's a lot different than a plane . . ."

"Just takes a little practice," he said encouragingly, "You can handle this girl, you can surely handle a chopper. I'll take you up some time, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," she said, glancing at him sideways. She had never met anyone who had appeared more at ease in the sky than standing on his own two feet.

"Couldn't have asked for a nicer night for flying," Murdock said happily, "look at those stars. It's so clear you could navigate by 'em."

Murdock launched into an explanation of star navigation, pointing out constellations, and how they were used by the ancient seafarers. Nancy interjected some of the mythology that had led to the constellation names, and the related storied. They talked as they flew for the next 45 minutes, then headed back to the field. After running through post-flight and tying the plane down, they walked back into the hangar to clean up.

Murdock dropped the last of the tools into the tool box, "I really enjoyed that," he said, looking at Nancy gratefully, "It's been awhile since I flew just for the joy of it."

"It _was_ fun," she agreed thoughtfully.

He glanced around, hoping to find something else to pick up to delay ending the evening. Finding nothing, he picked up his jacket, and looked at her, his glance uncertain but determined, "I was wondering if, well, if you'd like to maybe go out to dinner . . . sometime?"

"Dinner?" Nancy said in surprise, recovering quickly, she asked, "Um . . . how about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" he looked at her with a wide smile, "Tomorrow would be great!"

"Great," she said, nodding. They looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, then Nancy chuckled nervously, "Well, it really is late – we should probably get going and let Doc hit the hay."

Murdock nodded, "Yea," then snapped his fingers, "I need to know where you live."

"That would probably help, huh?" she said, "I've got some paper out in the car."

They turned and walked out to the parking lot, waving to Doc as they left. Murdock walked with her to her car – an candy-apple red convertible Volkswagon beetle.

He held the door for her as she got in. Nancy leaned across the seat, and grabbing a piece of paper from the glove compartment, she scribbled her address and phone number on it.

She held it out to him, "It's just off the main drag, but if you have any trouble finding it, call."

He looked at the address, "I think I know where it is," he said, "I'll pick you up about 6?"

"Six it is."

Happy Reflections 

Murdock got home, and found his answering machine light blinking. Hannibal had called, "Hey, Murdock. You might wanna lay low for awhile. The General seems to be digging in here, and he's not in the best of moods. We'll give you a call when the coast is clear."

He sighed as he hit the 'erase' button. The last time the General had spent any time there, it had been almost a week before he'd gotten to see the guys again. And that was only because a limo had shown up to 'invite' him to a mission briefing.

He headed into the bedroom and stripped down to his t-shirt and underware. At least he had something to look forward to. Unfortunately, Saturday, 6 pm seemed like an awful long time away. As he lay back in bed, he went over the evening in his mind. He closed his eyes and could imagine Nancy's petite form leaning under the hood of her plane, the light catching on the strawberry-colored highlights in her hair. Strawberries, he loved strawberries, especially when there was a short cake to go with them.

Nancy arrived home, and went straight upstairs to take a shower and get the worst of the grease and dirt cleaned off. She stripped down in the bathroom, and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and she still had smears of grease on her face. She shook her head, she had been certain all evening that the only lady HM had been interested in was Aunt Bea. The dinner invitation had caught her totally unaware, which was a testament to how comfortable she felt around him, right from the first 'hello'.

She started the shower and stepped under the steaming water, scrubbing thoroughly at her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed an evening as much as she had this one. She found herself looking forward to dinner the next night with anticipation, which was a pleasant change from how she usually felt when awaiting a 'first date'.

She automatically started working a profile for HM Murdock – intelligent, funny, and a bit shy, but she didn't equate that with any lack of self-confidence. There was something that she couldn't put her finger on, something that she was missing. She made a mental note to stay more on guard than she had tonight and pay closer attention. Something about HM Murdock intrigued her, and that had an undeniable allure. She was going to have to watch her step.

Another Day 

Nancy had gotten up Saturday morning only to make coffee and grab the paper before lying back down and enjoying a lazy morning in bed reading. Having been on assignment for the last 14 months out of the country, she was really enjoying this idle time at home. By noon, she was getting hungry and decided to get dressed and head downstairs for some food.

After a quick lunch of peanut butter and jelly, she wandered outside to tackle the weeds in the flower beds. This was a task she generally enjoyed, but was at the moment dreading. It had been over a year since she'd spent any time to speak of in Langley, and the flower gardens were a testimony to the neglect. She'd spent an enjoyable morning the day before at the greenhouse picking out a couple flats of flowers, but now they all had to be planted. There was no more putting it off – the gardens had to be cleaned out and redone.

Murdock had gone to his favorite diner, Mabel's, for breakfast, then gone back to his apartment and read the local paper front to back, followed by the NY Times, Newsweek, and finally the Rolling Stone, before deciding it was time for lunch.

After finishing a meal of Swedish meatballs over egg noodles, he'd pulled the note with Nancy's address and phone number out of his jacket and looked at it. He was pretty certain he knew where it was, but it couldn't hurt to make sure. He'd swing by there on his way to the grocery store.

Master Gardener 

Nancy had cleared about a third of one of the front gardens, trying to leave the perennials she'd planted when she'd first moved in and take only the weeds, though this was proving rather fruitless.

Murdock was driving by in his little red truck when Nancy stood up, pushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face and taking a long drink from a half-frozen bottle of water. She caught sight of him and waved spontaneously.

He pulled into her drive, got out of the truck, and jogged over to her with a wide smile on his face, "Hey," he said, suddenly nervous and aware that he hadn't been invited, "Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by unannounced. I was headed out for groceries and . . . just wanted to make sure I knew where I was going tonight . . ."

"It's OK," Nancy interrupted, smiling at him, "A little company is always welcome. I'm trying to get the flower gardens under control – they've been neglected even more than Aunt Bea. It would be a long afternoon if you hadn't stopped."

"Can I help?" he asked.

"You don't have to . . .," Nancy said, flustered.

"Don't have anything better to do, and I'm not going to just sit around and watch you work," he said easily, as he took off his jacket and tossed it over the railing that led up to the front door, "I'm not much of a gardener, though – what's the drill?"

"Well," she said, considering what she had done so far, "There's really not much left to salvage. If you want to grab the hoe, you can start on the other side and just rip out everything that isn't flowering. It's mostly weeds anyway."

He took the hoe with a big smile, "Let's get to work."

Nancy watched as he started hoeing enthusiastically in the opposite garden, and after a few seconds, picked up the long-handled claw and set to work as well. They soon had the remainder of the weeds cleaned out.

Murdock leaned on the hoe, considering the pile of weeds, "Where do you want these?"

"There's a compost bin around back," she said, "I'll go get the wheel barrow."

After loading the last of the weeds into the bin, Murdock turned to her, "So, master gardener, now what?" he asked, grinning.

Nancy ran a dirty hand back through her bangs, pulling them off her forehead and leaving muddy streaks in the process, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thirsty," she said, and turned to lead the way in the rear entrance of the townhouse.

Murdock followed her through the back hall, which ran along the stairs to the upper floors, past a neat and orderly living room and into the kitchen. She went straight to the sink and washed her hands, then pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with ice and water.

Nancy handed one of the glasses to Murdock, and they both drank thirstily, leaning against the counter by the sink. Nancy turned and refilled her glass, catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection off the window.

She grimaced and glanced sideways at Murdock, who had just finished his glass of water and was leaning over to refill it.

"You are developing a real talent of catching me at my worst," she said, almost apologetically.

He turned the water off and looked at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

Nancy set her glass on the counter, and nudged him out of the way, turning the water back on, "I mean, last night I was in my grungiest clothes and elbow deep in grease, and this morning, I'm sweaty, dirty and a total disaster," she leaned down and splashed ice cold water over her face, rubbing at the dirt on her forehead, trying to get the worst of it off.

"I think you look great," he said with a shrug, "a little grease and dirt never hurt anybody."

She wiped her face on a dry kitchen towel, stating simply, "You are crazy."

"I thought we established that last night," he said, grinning. He reached out and plucked some dried leaves out of her hair, "Though I will admit, I'd draw the line at actually going out to dinner like this."

Nancy smiled self-consciously, aware once again of the involuntary reaction his closeness elicited and picking up her glass and taking another drink to hide it, before saying drolly, "Oh, I'll clean up before dinner, but first, we need to get those two flats of plants in and watered – whadaya say?"

Murdock folded his hands and bowed, "Aftah you, Mastah."

Nancy smiled and turned to lead the way out, "Let's go, flyboy."

They had finished laying out where the plants were going to go, and had gotten about half of them in the ground. Murdock stood up, watching as Nancy moved onto the next plant, sweat dripping off the end of her nose. It had turned into a scorching day, and the humidity was high.

He touched her shoulder, "How about some more water?"

Nancy brushed her hair out of her face, looking up at him, "There's more bottled water in the freezer," she said gratefully, "I don't know if it's frozen, but it should be good and cold."

He headed into the town house, as she sat back and considered how much there was left to do.

Trixie and Joe 

A couple in a navy blue SUV pulled up to the curb. The woman was tall and lanky with sandy, curly hair and bright green eyes. The man was powerfully built, with blond hair cut in a butch and piercing, steel grey eyes.

"Hey, Nan," the woman called as she got out of the vehicle. She glanced curiously in the driveway, noting the unfamiliar truck.

Nancy stood up with a wide grin for the new arrivals, "Hi, Trix. Hi, Joe," she called, with a friendly wave.

Trixie James Martin was Nancy's partner, and had been her best friend since junior high school. She had married Joe Martin, a homicide detective with the Langley Police Department, early last year.

Joe put an arm around Trixie as they walked up to join Nancy in the yard, "Hell of a day to be gardening," he said, "Gotta be 100 out here in the sun."

"It's a hundred every summer day in Langley that it isn't raining," Nancy said, "I didn't figure you two would surface for at least another week," she added teasingly.

Trixie and Joe looked at each other significantly, and Nancy put her hands on her hips, "So why _did_ you decide to rejoin the human race?"

"Well, we have some news," Trixie said, then blurted, "Nan, I'm pregnant."

Nancy looked at Trixie in shock, "What?"

Just then, Murdock came walking out of the town house, carrying two bottles of water. Nancy was still trying to integrate this new information, when he handed her a water bottle and smiled at Trixie and Joe, "Hi."

Trixie and Joe both looked more than a little surprised to see a man walking out of Nancy's apartment, but Joe recovered quickly, and held out a hand, "Hi, I'm Joe Martin and this is my wife, Trixie."

Nancy looked at Joe, then Murdock, and found her manners, "Um, Trix, Joe, this is HM Murdock. HM, Trixie and Joe Martin."

Murdock's expression was amused, "Yep, that's what he said," He held out a hand to Joe and Trixie, and they shook.

Nancy motioned into the house, "We could go sit inside, where it's cool . . ," she said absently.

Inside, they found seats in the living room. Nancy had barely sat down, when she stood up again, "You want something to drink?"

Trixie, who had been gazing curiously at Murdock, stood as well, "I'll help you," and grabbing Nancy's arm, she steered her into the kitchen.

Joe watched them go, then turned to Murdock, "I think I've seen you around Mabel's," he said conversationally.

"Yea, I live right near there," Murdock said, "It's a great little place."

Joe nodded, glancing again towards the kitchen, then back at Murdock, he leaned back and got comfortable, "They'll be awhile," he said practically, "You from around here?"

"Nope," Murdock said, "Originally from Texas, but most recently, from LA."

Joe caught sight of Murdock's jacket, which Nancy had brought in and dropped over the end of the couch, "That yours?" when Murdock nodded, Joe sat forward curiously, "You in the Tigers?"

"No, a friend of mine gave it to me," he said, "I was an army pilot."

"Vietnam?" Joe asked, and again Murdock nodded. He sat back, "Me, too," Joe said.

In the kitchen, Trixie turned to Nancy, "Who is he?"

Nancy leaned against the counter, crossing her arms, "I told you, HM Murdock. I met him at the airfield last night," she said, "How long have you known you're pregnant?"

"Just found out," Trixie said, "You just met him last night?"

"Yes, he helped me give Aunt Bea a tune up, then we took her up for a spin," Nancy said, "How far along are you?"

Trixie was chewing on her lip, "Just missed my period, so about a month, but I haven't been to the doctor – have my first appointment in about an hour," she said, "What do you know about him?"

"From Houston originally, Vietnam veteran, huey pilot, lived in LA for the last ten years at the VA, just moved to Langley about a year ago," Nancy supplied, "Are you going to take a sabbatical?"

Trixie stopped and looked at Nancy, remembering why she had insisted Joe stop, "Nan, that's why I wanted to come see you . . ."

Nancy looked at her friend knowingly, "You're going to quit."

Trixie sighed, "We've talked about this, Nan," she said quietly, her expression seeking understanding, "Joe and I have seen each other less than two months in the last year. That's no kind of marriage. And with a baby on the way . . . I don't want to miss my kid growing up."

Nancy leaned forward and gave her friend a warm hug, "Of course you don't, Trix," she said, "I'm really happy for you . . . really. You've gotta do what's right for you and Joe and the baby."

"I hate leaving you in the lurch like this, Nan," Trixie said, looking at her apologetically.

Nancy shrugged, and turned to pull glasses out of the cupboard, "Don't worry about me," she said as she got the drinks, "I've been considering a change of scenery, too. This past year has sucked."

"You aren't seriously considering quitting?" Trixie asked incredulously, "That's going to be difficult, isn't it?"

Nancy shrugged, "Nothing worth doing is easy," she said, adding offhandedly, "I ran into Riley Adams the day before yesterday. He's looking for an operative . . . maybe even a partner."

"Do you really want to be a private investigator?" Trixie asked, "Seems like a step back from where you are. . ."

"You sound like my Uncle," Nancy said snidely.

"I'm not your Uncle," Trixie said, her jaw clenched, "It's just that you have other options. They'd be glad to have you back at the Bureau and you know Casey would love it if you came to work for him."

"And I'd end up back in the same damn place I am now," Nancy said irritably, "No way. At least as a PI, I'd have some control over my life."

Trixie looked at Nancy ruefully, "That's gonna take more than a job change," she said quietly, "Maybe HM is a move in the right direction, though."

"I'd say _he _is a move in the opposite direction from control," Nancy responded quietly.

Trixie raised an eyebrow, then picked up one of the glasses from the counter, "You just met HM last night," she said thoughtfully, "Have you asked Carla to run a background on him?"

"No," Nancy said, "We haven't even gone on our first date, yet. I don't see what the rush is."

"Nan, you know protocol," Trixie said severely, "Especially after what happened down in Columbia. You have to be careful."

"If HM was a hit man, he'd have killed me already," Nancy said dismissively, as she picked up the other glass, "Besides, I hate to have Carla informing Uncle that there's fresh meat too soon – you know how he is. If HM asks me out on a second date, then I'll contact her for the background check."

She turned and started back towards the living room, "Besides, by now Joe probably knows as much from his interrogation then Carla could find out," she quickened her pace, "Speaking of which, we should probably go rescue HM."

Trixie chuckled, "A definite advantage of being married to a homicide detective," she said, "He's not shy about asking questions."

"No, he's definitely not," Nancy agreed.

Joe and Murdock were laughing about something when Nancy and Trixie came in. Nancy walked over and handed Joe his drink, then dropped onto the end of the couch. Murdock was sitting in a rocking chair and Trixie sat on the arm of Joe's chair.

Joe looked up at his wife discerningly, "You told her?"

"Yes, she told me, Joe," Nancy answered for her, turning to Murdock she clarified, "Trixie's pregnant . . . and has decided to find another job."

Murdock grinned, "Congratulations! This your first?"

Joe nodded, "Yea, we've only been married a little over a year and a half," he said, "Trixie's been eluding me for awhile, but I finally managed to tie her down."

Trixie made a face at him, then turned to Murdock, "So, HM, Nan says you're a pilot," she said, "You work for Doc?"

"No," Murdock said, "Right now I'm working for Hamilton's Turkey Farm."

"You're a pilot for a turkey farm?" Trixie asked curiously.

"No," Murdock said, shaking his head, "Actually, I'm just a general laborer."

"Oh," Trixie said in confusion, "How long have you been there?"

"A month or so," Murdock said vaguely.

"You haven't always worked for a turkey farm, then," she said, sounding relieved.

Nancy was mortified at the tact Trixie's line of questioning was taking and looked at Joe desperately to end the conversation.

Joe suppressed a smile and sat forward, deciding to save his wife from sticking her foot any further down her throat, "HM was one of the slick pilots that pulled my unit out of Khe Sahn," he said, casually, "You stay with that unit during your entire tour, HM?"

Murdock shook his head, "No, I ended up . . . mmm, flying for a special forces unit."

"Really? Bet that made life interesting," Joe said, looking at Murdock curiously, "The special forces were always hitting the hot zones."

"Yea, working with the special forces kept things interesting," Murdock agreed noncommittally, wondering if he should have even mentioned it.

He was saved from any further questioning as Trixie looked at her watch and jumped up, "We gotta get moving, Joe, or we're going to be late for the doctor's appointment."

They headed towards the door, and Trixie took Murdock's hand, shaking it vigorously, "It was really nice to meet you, HM. You and Nan'll have to come over for dinner sometime soon."

Joe smiled tolerantly as his wife walked out the door, then turned and shook Murdock's hand, chuckling, "Listen, it was really great to meet you HM – we will have to get together sometime. Bye," he waved as he followed his wife to the SUV.

Nancy's face was red, and she passed a hand over her eyes, "Sorry about that," she said quietly, "Trixie's kind of a mother hen . . ."

Murdock smiled, "S'OK, Short Cake," he said easily, "They seem like really nice people."

"Short Cake?" Nancy asked, looking at him peculiarly.

He looked down at her, surprised that the nickname had come out, "Uh, shouldn't we get the rest of those flowers planted, before they cook in the sun?"

The distraction worked, and she grimaced as she hurried down the front steps and looked at the plants laid out and rapidly wilting in the afternoon heat, "Geez, I hope they're not dead."

They set to work and soon had them all planted. The sun had finally dropped far enough behind the building so that the front gardens were in shade.

Nancy pulled a sprinkler out and set it so that it was running on the one garden, then turned to Murdock, who was stepping out of the front door with his jacket, "I ought to get going, if I'm going to get a shower, get cleaned up, and get back here by 6," he said.

She nodded agreement, "Thanks for all the help, HM," she said, "I probably wouldn't have gotten done if you hadn't come along . . . again."

"Happy to be of service," he said with a slight bow, then he looked up at her, his eyes dancing with amusement, "Looking forward to seeing you tonight with neither grease nor dirt on either of our faces."

Nancy's hand flew up to her forehead, where she felt the tell-tale grittiness of dirt under her fingers, "I'll try to be presentable by the time you get back."

"You're pretty presentable now," he said, "Just not very clean," he reached out and brushed some loose dirt off her cheek.

Nancy felt herself flush as his fingers brushed her cheek, and smiled self-consciously at him, "Clean _and_ presentable, then."

"See ya, in about an hour and a half, Short Cake," he said lightly, as he strode out to his truck.

Nancy looked after him curiously, "Short Cake . . .," she murmured curiously.

Out of the Frying Pan . . . 

Nancy stood in front of her closet in underwear and a bra, looking at her wardrobe in dismay. On one side of the closet were black pants suits and white button-down shirts. There were even a few dark ties, which she had steadfastly refused to wear. These were her work uniform, and she hated them with a passion.

On the other side were her 'normal' clothes, and there was a rather meager selection. She had laid a new pair of black pants on the bed that Trixie had convinced her to purchase but she had never actually worn, and was now trying to decide what shirt to wear with them. She glanced at the clock – it was 5:30 – and sighed audibly. The selection hadn't changed in the last 15 minutes, and it was unlikely to change in the next 30. She finally reached in and pulled out a sleeveless burgundy fitted button down shirt.

She pulled on her pants and shirt, and then assessed herself in the full-length mirror. Trixie had been right, the pants were flattering, softening the full curve of her hips. The shirt hugged her breasts and waist then flared slightly, accentuating her figure in all the right places. Her hair fell in soft, shiny curls over her shoulders, the color of the shirt causing the red highlights to stand out. She put on some lip balm and minimal blue eyeliner, before looking at the remaining makeup and deciding against anything else. Over the past year, she had spent a lot of time outside in diffuse sunlight, and her skin had developed a healthy tan that didn't require any enhancement. By quarter to 6 she was down in the living room, flipping through a book and waiting nervously for Murdock to show up.

Murdock stood in his bedroom, dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a plain white t-shirt, with an array of shirts on the bed and the phone cradled to his ear, "The problem is, Face, that I don't know what to wear," he said desperately. He had finally broken down and called the Compound, where thankfully the General had not answered the phone. But he had trouble getting Face on topic, as his friend was very curious about whom he was going out with.

"You aren't wearing a pair of khakis, are you?" Face asked.

Murdock looked down at his pants, and quickly unzipped them, "Of course not," he said hastily, kicking the pants aside, and grabbing his one pair of dark slacks.

"Thank God," Face said, "What color are the pants you are wearing?"

He looked at them critically, "Blue?" he ventured.

"Jeez, Murdock, this isn't an ink blot test," Face said impatiently, "They're probably that navy pair I got you for your birthday."

"Yea, those are the ones."

"OK, what about the shirt I got you to go with them?"

Murdock walked over to the closet, and reached in the back, pulling out a long-sleeved, white oxford with burgundy pinstripes. Trying to brush the dust off the shoulders, he said hesitantly, "Uh, Facey, I don't think so."

"What's wrong with it?" Face asked.

"Well, it's been sitting in my closet, and it's sorta odd colored on the shoulders."

"OK, then what do you have?"

Murdock hung the oxford back up and turned to the bed, "How about a plain light blue shirt?" he asked, holding up one that Hannibal had gotten him last Christmas. The guys were always trying to get him to give up the crazy t-shirts.

"Plain light blue, huh?" Face asked thoughtfully, "That should work, what about a tie?"

Murdock looked at the three ties he owned, and shook his head, "I think I'll go without," he said ruefully.

Face couldn't help but smile, "You'll be fine," he said, "No tie will say you're casual and confident."

"Casual and confident, huh?" Murdock said uncertainly, as he buttoned up the shirt and considered his reflection in the mirror. He didn't feel either casual or confident. Looking at his feet, he realized he still had on white socks and grimaced, "Listen, Face, I gotta go or I'm gonna be late."

"Call me when you get back and let me know how it went," Face said, "Oh, and don't forget flowers."

"Flowers?" Murdock said, as he pulled his white socks off, "Where do I get flowers?"

"Stop by one of the street vendors and buy some."

"Face, this isn't LA," Murdock said irritably, "There isn't a street vendor on every corner."

"Oh, right . . . so try a florist," Face offered.

"A florist? I really gotta get movin', Faceman. Thanks for the help!" Murdock said, pulling a dark pair of socks out of his dresser.

"Good luck, Murdock," Face said, laughing at the grunt, "Have a good time."

Face hung up the phone, and turned around, where Hannibal, BA and Frankie had all been sitting listening to his end of the conversation.

"So, Murdock has a date, huh?" Hannibal asked.

"Yep," Face said, "He's going out with some woman he met at the airfield last night. And boy was he nervous."

"She a pilot?"

"Apparently, and a pretty good one, too," Face said, "Murdock was impressed, and that's not easy to do when it comes to flying."

Hannibal sat back, "A lady pilot that impresses Murdock, huh? Sounds intriguing, can't wait to meet her."

Into the Fire 

Murdock pulled up in front of Nancy's townhouse right on time, clutching a fistful of daisies in his hand. He walked up to the front door, which opened before he even rang the bell.

Nancy was standing there smiling nervously at him, "Hi, you're right on time."

He stared at her in surprise, realizing he hadn't seen her with her hair down, "Hi," then deciding that he was staring, he thrust the flowers out at her, "These are for you."

Nancy took the flowers and motioned him inside, "I'll put them in some water."

He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she filled a vase with water, looking at the roots on the bottom of some of the stems with interest, "Where did you get these?"

Murdock smiled sheepishly, "At the park," he admitted, "The florist I passed on the way here was closed."

"Well, flowers weren't totally necessary, but you sure do get an A for effort," Nancy said, smiling.

He was staring at her again, as she turned with the vase full of flowers, "You smell, uh," he did a mental head slap before finishing, "I mean, _look_ really nice."

"Couldn't have gone anywhere but up," she said ruefully as she set the vase on the table. Then she looked up at him and smiled shyly, "You smell and look pretty nice yourself."

Her acceptance of his odd flattery served to set him at ease, and he asked, "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

Nancy looked at a loss for a moment, blurting out the first place that came to mind, "How about Charlie's?" she suggested, "I'm always in the mood for a good burger, and Charlie's makes the best."

"That sounds great," Murdock said, "Are you all set?" at Nancy's nod, he grinned and said enthusiastically, "Well, then let's blow this popsicle stand and get some grub, I'm starving!"

Charlie's was a small neighborhood bar and restaurant with a large screen TV in the bar area to pull in the sports crowds. They were shown to a booth in the back and handed menus.

Nancy glanced around, it was Saturday night, but there was no huge sporting event on this evening, so Charlie's was fairly quiet, though she saw a couple of Joe's coworkers sitting at the bar. One of the men called hello to her, and she raised a hand in greeting before picking up the menu.

"You hang out here a lot?" Murdock asked, noting the man at the bar watching them with apparent interest.

Nancy looked uncomfortable, "Not really, it's just that, well, several of Joe's friends come here, and I've . . . m-met a lot of them," 'and if I'd thought of that earlier, I wouldn't have suggested coming to Charlie's' Nancy thought to herself.

"You 'met' a lot of them?" Murdock asked, raising an eyebrow with interest.

"Well, you know, going out with Trixie and Joe, they usually invited one of Joe's friends," she admitted, her cheeks turning red.

"So they set you up, huh?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement, "None of them would be the jealous type, would they? I'd imagine most of Joe's friends carry . . . and probably know how to use 'em."

"I doubt any of them would bother," she said with a shrug, then nodded towards the bar, "Though for other reasons, I wouldn't put it past Brett to pull something. However, he'd be much more likely to plant crack on you and bust you for possession."

"Vice?" Murdock asked, at Nancy's affirming nod, he added, "I'll make it a point to avoid him."

"Yea, so do I," she said, chuckling.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered him, "You know, there's something I've been wanting to ask you since we met. . ."

"Yea?"

"What does the HM stand for?"

He shrugged, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Nancy said disbelievingly, "It can't stand for nothing."

"Why not?" Murdock asked nonchalantly.

"Well, I don't go around telling everyone I'm NR Clay . . ."

"So, the N stands for Nancy, what about the R?"

Nancy hesitated, "Ruby," she said, "Mom picked Nancy, and Dad picked Ruby – obviously they didn't care how it sounded."

"Ruby's an unusual name – what made your Dad pick it?" Murdock asked curiously.

"Ruby was the name of his favorite person," Nancy said, smiling, "It was my Mom's name. But, as smoothly as you articulated that avoidance tactic, I'm still expecting an answer to my original question – what does the 'HM' stand for?"

"The HM doesn't stand for anything," Murdock said, again, then relented and explained, "It did, I was named after my father. But after he dumped me on my grandparents and disappeared, I decided I didn't really want to share his name. So I had it legally changed."

"Legally changed . . . to just HM?"

"Just HM," he affirmed.

The waitress appeared with their drinks and appetizer and they placed their food orders before she left. They spent the next several minutes concentrating on eating the nachos, which were loaded with cheese, onions, jalapeños and bacon bits, and had come with fresh salsa and sour cream.

While they were eating, a short, dark-haired man, who looked like a manager, stopped by the table, "Hey, Nan," he said familiarly, "long time no see."

Nancy smiled at him, "Hi, Charlie, how've you been?"

"Not bad, not bad . . . Wondered what Brett kept looking at over here. Guess now I know," he said, looking at Murdock with interest, then he turned back to Nancy, "I heard you got yourself waylaid in Columbia with some diplomatic mess. When'd you get back in town?"

"I went to see my Dad in Chicago, and just got back into town a few days ago," Nancy said. She indicated Murdock, "Charlie, this is HM Murdock, HM, this is Charlie Clark – he owns this dump," she winked at him.

Murdock held out a hand, "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, though if I were you, I'd find some better company to enjoy your meal with."

"You missed me, Charlie, admit it!"

"Yea, like I miss a toothache," Charlie said, his smile belying his words. He added mischievously, "Though it has been awhile since we had any decent music in the place."

Nancy's look turned sour, "Drop it, Charlie."

Charlie pressed, a teasing gleam in his eyes, "C'mon, Nan – the piano's still over in the corner . . . you do remember how to play?"

"Charlie . . .," Nancy said warningly.

"Guess you haven't had enough to drink yet!" Charlie said, laughing, "OK - I'll let you go for now," he stepped aside, as the waitress set their meals in front of them, "It was nice meeting you, HM. I'll see you folks later – enjoy your meals!"

Murdock looked at her curiously as they started eating, "So, guess that means the guitar and piano in your living room aren't just for show."

Nancy shrugged, "I play, but not _usually_ in front of other people."

"How about one other person," Murdock said hopefully, "I'd really like to hear."

"I might be convinced to make an exception," she said, "If you promise not to laugh."

"Cross my heart," he said, making a corresponding motion with his hand.

Nancy smiled slightly, then motioned to his burger, "How is it?"

"You were right," he agreed, with a full mouth, "Really good burgers."

They ate leisurely, laughing and talking about wide-ranging topics, starting with music, progressing naturally to movies, which led to Murdock providing a discourse on his favorite movie star, Humphrey Bogart. Discussion of _The African Queen_ led to a tangent debate about the women's rights movement. Something in that discussion led Murdock to ask her about her college career. Nancy offered some general information, before managing to turn the topic back to Murdock, by asking him why he hadn't gone to college. Murdock explained that his grandparents had passed away just before he graduated high school, with no will, which meant he became a ward of the state, which took what little money his grandparents had. It was nearly 8 when the waitress came to take their empty plates and ask if they wanted any dessert.

Murdock looked at Nancy, who was shaking her head, "I guess not," he said, "Everything was really good."

The waitress dropped the bill and left.

"I am stuffed," Nancy said with a deep sigh, "I think an appetizer and a meal was a little too much."

"Does that mean you're not up for coffee and pie at Mabel's?" Murdock asked, pulling out his wallet.

Nancy blew out her cheeks, "I don't think I could eat another bite, but coffee doesn't sound bad."

He threw enough money on the table to cover the bill and tip, "Good, 'cause I have a sweet tooth."

"I might be able to fit in a piece of pie myself in a little while," she said, "But I'll only go on one condition . . ."

"Which is?"

"It's my treat."

The conversation continued on the road, with Murdock turning the conversation away from himself by beginning a discussion of the importance of having a will to avoid the government taking everything. At the diner, they took another booth, this time near the door. The waitress, who greeted Murdock like an old friend, brought coffee over and they ordered pie.

Their conversation never lapsed, and they moved comfortably from one topic to another. Nancy was interested in his time at the VA, and they discussed the various treatment regimens that he had tried over the years, and the merits of each. He asked about her treatment as a child, and they discussed the many advancements in psychology and psychiatry over the last 20 years, and how the field of psychiatry and drug therapy had definitely improved since the days when the chemically-imbalanced had been forced to resort to commonly-available depressants, like alcohol, and stimulants, like caffeine.

"Speaking of self-medicating - you are never going to get to sleep tonight," Nancy said. She had switched over to water after her first cup of coffee. Meanwhile, Murdock had drained his fourth cup of coffee, "I'd have a heck of a buzz with that much caffeine this time of night."

"Naw," Murdock said, "you want a real buzz you drink Mountain Dew - the caffeine and sugar combo is killer. After a six-pack you need coffee to bring you back down!"

Nancy shook her head in amusement, "Sounds like addictive behavior to me."

Murdock's look sobered, "Knew a lot of guys during the war that went way beyond the caffeine and booze," he said quietly, "Started down that path myself . . ." his look was distant

She looked up into troubled brown eyes, "But you didn't get consumed like so many . . .," she said consolingly.

He looked at her, and smiled, "No, I'm definitely one of the lucky ones. I had a commanding officer that took an interest in me. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say he saved my life – in more ways than one."

"Do you keep in touch?" Nancy asked.

Murdock looked at her, "Yea, we keep in touch," he said, then changed the subject, "What made you get into diplomatic work with a phych degree?"

"Sometimes things don't work out the way you think they will," Nancy said evasively, "I started in a more applied job when I first got my degree, but there were problems, and I ended up, well, dropping back and punting."

"And you punted into diplomacy?"

"Actually, no, I punted into law," she admitted, "But don't tell anybody. I don't often admit that I'm JD."

"You're a lawyer?" Murdock asked in surprise.

"By degree only," Nancy said, "I've never really practiced law, though the training, particularly in international law, comes in quite handy in my current position."

"I'd imagine," Murdock said.

"What about you?" Nancy said, "I would think a pilot with your experience could find work at any airfield. Why do you work at a turkey farm?"

Murdock shrugged, "Most people aren't nearly as understanding as you are when it comes to my time at the VA."

"I can't believe Doc wouldn't give you a job."

"If it were up to Doc, he probably would," Murdock said quietly.

Nancy looked at Murdock curiously, but further inquiry along that line was interrupted.

It was almost midnight, and the waitress picked that moment to stop by their table, a tolerant smile on her face, "I hate to do this to you kids, but we're closin' up," she said.

Murdock looked at his watch, "Jeez, look at the time. Sorry Blanche, didn't realize it was gettin' so late. Hope we haven't held you up."

"You ain't hurtin nothin', HM," she said smiling, "I hated to interrupt. You two seemed to be having such a nice time."

Nancy handed Blanche enough money to cover the bill, with a generous tip.

"Sorry for taking up space for so long Blanche," Murdock said, as they rose to leave he pressed another bill into her hand, "Buy Terra an ice cream cone on me. G'night!"

He held the door for Nancy and they walked out to his truck. He drove slowly back to her place.

"You must eat there a lot," Nancy said.

"I eat there a fair amount, it's convenient," Murdock agreed, "and Blanchey's a sweet lady. She's raising her granddaughter on her own, and I don't think she's got two nickels to rub together."

Nancy looked at him appraisingly, "You're a really nice guy HM Murdock."

"You're not so bad yourself," he said, smiling.

Weak Moment 

They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way to her townhouse. He parked in the drive and walked Nancy to the door. She pulled her key out and opened the door.

Nancy turned and looked at Murdock uncertainly, motioning into the apartment she asked, "Would you like to come in?"

Murdock nodded, "Yea, I would."

She turned and led the way into the apartment.

When she got into the living room, she was at a loss, and looked at Murdock awkwardly, "Do you want something to drink?" she asked tentatively.

Murdock's eyes had landed on the guitar, "No, think I've had enough to drink for a couple days," he said, "But I do seem to remember you promising to play me a song," he added coaxingly as he sat down on the end of the couch.

"I don't recall really _promising_ . . .," she disagreed, walking over and running her fingers over the strings of the guitar.

"Pretty please with sugar on top . . .," he begged, "I promise not to laugh, guffaw or even giggle!"

Nancy looked at him calculatingly for a few seconds before picking up the guitar and walking to the couch. She sat down on the opposite end from Murdock, leaning against the arm and strumming randomly for a few seconds before settling into a tune:

_Over by the wildwood, it was a hot summer night.  
We lay in the tall grass, til the mornin' light come shining_

If I had my way I'd never get the urge to roam.  
Sometimes I serve my country   
Sometimes I stay at home.

Just don't put me in the frame upon the mantel  
Where memories turn dusty, old and grey.  
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.  
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Never gave a second thought, never crossed my mind.  
To what is right and what is not. I'm not the judgin' kind.  
I could take the darkness and the storms from your skies.  
We all got certain trials burnin' up inside.  
Don't send me no distant salutations.  
Or silly souvenirs from far away.  
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.  
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Don't put me in the frame upon the mantel.  
Where memories turn dusty, old and grey.  
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.  
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Nancy looked at Murdock uncertainly as she finished the song. His expression was unreadable, and he was sitting there quietly, just looking at her. She finally broke the silence, "Was it that bad?"

Murdock blinked, "I – I'm sorry," he said shaking his head and talking almost to himself, "I'm not sure what I expected . . .," he looked at her earnestly, "You are _really good_."

Nancy considered him seriously; trying to decide if he was just being polite or if he truly liked it, "You can tell me the truth . . ." she began in admonishment, standing up to put the guitar back on the piano.

"I am telling you the truth, Nan," Murdock interrupted, "I was just kinda, well, surprised after all the hemming and hahing you did about playing, I figured . . ." he looked at her apologetically, "Well, I expected it to be OK, but . . . you have real talent, why don't you play for other people?"

She had resumed her seat on the couch, and looked a bit uncomfortable with his praise, "It's not like I could make a living at it," she said dismissively.

Murdock raised his eyebrows, "What does that have to do with it?"

She took a deep breath and sat up ramrod straight, her hands on her knees, "Music is a frivolous past time and a waste of energy," she said haughtily, then looked at him and smiled self-deprecatingly, "That's my Uncle talking – I've heard that litany since . . . who knows, _forever_, and I guess in some corner of my mind it sticks. Music is a waste of valuable time."

"'Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.'" Murdock quoted, then smiled at her repentantly as he continued, "Not to be disrespectful, but your Uncle sounds like a butt-head."

Nancy laughed, "You are the first person I've ever met that could quote Victor Hugo in one breath, and call my Uncle a butt-head in the next."

"I hope that's a good thing," he said anxiously.

Nancy smiled her reassurance, "Actually, my Dad feels pretty much the same way about my Uncle."

"And what does your Dad think about your music?" he asked curiously.

"Dad's always supported me no matter what I wanted to do. He's a really terrific person, especially considering he's a practicing lawyer," she looked at Murdock thoughtfully, "I think you'd like him."

"Yea, but the real question is would he like me?" Murdock asked in amusement.

"It doesn't really matter because I do," Nancy said impetuously, the stood up suddenly, trying to recover from that rather unexpected disclosure, "Um, are you sure you don't want something to drink?" she asked, motioning vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

He caught the edge of panic in her voice, "Naw, if I drink anymore I'm gonna be floating home," he said, standing, "Speaking of which, I should probably head out."

Nancy felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment at that statement. She couldn't quite figure out what it was about HM Murdock that fascinated her, but she certainly couldn't deny the attraction. Now she just nodded and followed as he led the way to the front door.

At the door, he stopped and turned to look at her, "I really enjoyed myself tonight, Nan," he said warmly, "And today, and last night . . ."

"So did I," Nancy said in agreement, smiling thoughtfully.

Murdock moved closer to her, reaching to take her hand, "I'd like to see you again . . ."

Nancy had been studiously avoiding Murdock's touch all evening, but now she let her guard down, "I'd like that," she said. Their hands met, and Nancy felt a warm tingle as they moved closer, and his other hand slid behind her neck. He ran his thumb along her jaw line, then leaned down, moving slowly and watching closely to gage her reaction.

Nancy knew she couldn't resist his touch, and tilted her chin up and moved to close the distance between them, feeling like she was moving in a dream, but meeting his lips unhesitatingly, nonetheless. The kiss started lightly, exploratory, but quickly deepened as they moved into each other's arms and gave in to the feelings they'd been holding in check all evening.

A minute later, Murdock finally pulled back, albeit reluctantly, and looked at her ruefully, "I should really get going . . .," he said, huskily.

Nancy looked at him. There was a part of her that wanted him to leave, but that part was losing the battle to one that wanted him to stay. She didn't trust herself to say anything, so instead she reached over and flipped the deadbolt to the locked position. Murdock smiled and pulled her, unresistingly, back into his arms for an encore kiss.

Duty Calls 

Murdock woke the next morning, early as was his habit, and looked at the ceiling in confusion for a moment before remembering where he was. He rolled over and looked at Nancy, sleeping peacefully beside him. He reached out a hand and brushed the mass of tangled hair out of her face. She stirred slightly, then slipped quickly back into deep sleep. It had been only a few hours ago that their passion had finally been spent and they had drifted off to sleep, but his internal clock didn't allow him to sleep past 6, except under very unusual circumstances.

He smiled at the memory, as he settled down next to her. He imagined their clothes were still scattered about the entryway, where they had been discarded. He had been surprised by how ready and willing she had been, given the panic that had gleamed in her eyes when she had admitted that she liked him. That had been an accident, but she hadn't left any doubt in his mind that she did like him, quite a bit.

After their encounter in the foyer, he had taken her up to her bedroom, and taken more time to really make love to her properly. Afterwards they had lain there, talking softly about nothing in particular. The moon had risen and shone brightly in her bedroom window, and she had sat up, looking at him curiously. When he had realized how starkly the scars on his chest stood out in the light, he had withdrawn, turning his back on her.

He still marveled at her reaction. She hadn't said anything, simply traced one particularly bad knife wound scar on his shoulder with her finger, before leaning down to kiss it. She'd continued across his back, tracing each scar before kissing it gently, until he had finally rolled to face her again. They had made love again, slowly and tenderly, exploring each others bodies in detail. She had scars, too, and he had returned the favor, tracing each then kissing it gently. When they had finally joined, it had been like no experience he'd ever had before.

He pulled the sheet down gently and retraced a fine, silvery scar that followed the line of her collar bone. It looked almost surgical, as did the other scars, which occurred in similarly unusual patterns across her torso. He was curious, but wasn't going to ask her where she had gotten them. He knew from personal experience that those types of questions were difficult to hear and even more difficult to answer, causing a reliving of things better left in the past.

When Nancy woke up, she looked up into warm brown eyes and smiled drowsily.

Murdock returned the smile, "Good morning, Short Cake," he said affectionately.

Nancy's eyes snapped open, as she realized that she wasn't dreaming, "Um . . . Good morning."

"Are you OK?" Murdock asked carefully.

Nancy sat up, and as the covers slid off, she snatched them back up, turning and looking at Murdock uncomfortably, "I, uh, I don't usually," she stopped, not wanting to insult him, "I mean, I'm not usually . . . this impulsive."

He put a hand on her arm, and smiled in understanding, "Maybe I'm impulsive enough for both of us," he said apologetically.

Nancy still appeared to be a little panicked, and Murdock sat up and looked at her tenderly. Running a hand over her hair, he cupped her face in his hand, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, "I should go," he said quietly.

Nancy looked into his eyes, losing herself in the memories of the night before, "No," she said simply, leaning in to meet him for another kiss.

About then, the phone rang once then abruptly stopped, and Nancy shrugged it off, "Must have been a wrong number." But when it rang once again, and again stopped, she put a hand on his chest, and listened. This happened twice more, as Nancy turned and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"It's Trixie," she said, standing and grabbing her robe, "I've gotta give her a call – it's probably about work."

"Maybe I should get going," Murdock said, disappointment edging his voice.

Nancy turned as she tied her robe, a small part of her screaming to let him leave so she could sort out what was going on. That voice was quickly silenced in her head, as she leaned down to kiss him, "I'll just be a minute," she said, then turned and headed out of the bedroom stopping at the door to look back, "If you want to get a shower, it's right through there."

Murdock gazed after her, torn between giving her some room and pressing his advantage. He had a good idea what she was going through, having seen Face struggle similarly, until a certain reporter had left for Jakarta. He considered the ceiling for several minutes after she'd left, finally deciding that a cold shower would probably help clear his head, and delayed the need to make a final decision about whether to stay or leave. He stood up and headed into the bathroom.

Downstairs, Nancy started coffee, while dialing Trixie's number.

It only rang once before Trixie picked it up, "It's about time," she said shortly, "Didn't you check your messages?"

Nancy glanced over at her answering machine guiltily, "Actually, no, I didn't," she admitted, "Don't tell me our vacation is over already."

"Well, actually, I'm not sure," Trixie said, "The General wanted me to find you and give him a call – he said he'd let me know when we needed to come in then. He apparently thought you were still in Chicago."

Nancy sighed as she pulled the coffee down off the shelf, "Couldn't we just tell him I am?" she asked glibly, then smiled, "I wouldn't mind a few more quiet days at home. I'll just lock the door and pretend I'm not here."

"Sorry, partner, but I'm not going to lie for you."

"We're due at least two months," Nancy said irritably, slamming the coffee filter shut, "It's only been one."

"We've been back almost six weeks . . . and besides, you're preachin' to the choir, sister," Trixie said, "I'll have to give him a call back and see what's up, then I'll call you back – and you better answer the damn phone."

"I will, I promise," Nancy said.

Trixie was dying to find out about Nancy's date, and couldn't wait any longer for her to offer the information, so she decided on a simple leading question, "So, did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes, I did," Nancy said simply.

Trixie sighed when she realized Nancy wasn't going to volunteer anymore.

"So," Trixie prodded, "What did you and HM do last night?"

"I told you," Nancy said, "We went out to dinner."

"And after dinner . . .," Trixie said leadingly.

"We . . . got to know each other," Nancy said, as she heard the shower start upstairs, knowing Trixie would not approve. Hoping to head off any further questioning, she continued, "I thought you were going to call the General and find out when we need to come in."

"OK, but this conversation is not over."

"Yes, ma'am!" Nancy said facetiously.

"He spent the night, didn't he?" Trixie asked, suddenly.

"Who?" Nancy asked innocently, and after a moment of silence, added, "You know what a busy social calendar I have. Now, would you please call the General so that I can see if I can fit him in?"

"Smart ass," Trixie said flatly, "I'll call you right back."

Nancy took the handset and walked upstairs, hesitating at the bathroom door briefly before going in and shutting the door behind her.

"You gotta go?" Murdock asked, sticking his head out of the shower.

Nancy looked at him, and found herself inexplicably relaxing. She put the phone handset on the counter and slipped off her robe, "Not right this minute," she said. Stepping into the shower, she leaned over and turned the water temperature up.

Five minutes later, Nancy and Murdock were just starting to really enjoy themselves in the shower when the phone rang again.

"Sorry," Nancy said, pulling away regretfully, "I've gotta get this."

She leaned out of the shower, grabbing the handset and pressing the 'talk' button, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," Trixie said unnecessarily.

"So I guessed," Nancy said, slapping Murdock's hands, which were wandering rather distractingly.

Trixie could hear the shower and other suggestive background noises and could make a good guess at what she was interrupting, "You don't need to hurry," she said in amusement, "The General said the briefing is tomorrow at 10am."

"OK," Nancy said, as Murdock nuzzled her neck, "I gotta go, Trix, I'll talk to you later."

"OK," Trixie said, adding mischievously, "You and HM have a good time."

"Mm-hm," Nancy mumbled before hanging up.

"And don't forget to call Carla," Trixie said hastily, finishing to a dead line.

She shook her head with a puzzled smile as she hung up the phone. Joe was watching her with interest, "Is HM still there?" he asked in surprise

"Sounded like it," Trixie said, "And from the sound of it, they're getting to know each other _very well_."

"This is Nancy Clay that we're talking about, right?"

"It sounded like Nancy," Trixie said thoughtfully, "You don't think there's anything to be worried about with this guy, do you? You talked to him for awhile yesterday – he's on the up and up, isn't he?"

"Trix, you don't need to be suspicious of everyone that comes along," Joe said quietly, "HM is a good man. If he wanted to hurt Nancy, he could have already. There's nothing to worry about."

"You're right," Trixie said, nodding, "I'm just a mother hen, like Nan always says. I'm sure HM is just what he seems – a really nice guy."

"I gotta get to know him – must have some kinda special powers," Joe said facetiously, as he turned his attention back to his paper, "Abel to break though Nan's emotional barriers faster than a speeding bullet!"

Half an hour later, Nancy and Murdock were dressed and drinking coffee in the kitchen.

"You don't have to go into work until tomorrow?" Murdock asked.

"Nope," Nancy said, sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee.

He reached across the table and took her hand, "So, what do you want to do today? And please tell me no more gardening."

"No more gardening," she assured him with a smile, "I don't really want to do anything in particular. How about you?"

"I just want to spend some more time getting to know you," Murdock said, looking at her discerningly to check her reaction, then sat up straighter, "But I gotta get some clean, comfortable clothes."

"You know, I was kinda surprised when you showed up in something other than khakis and a t-shirt," Nancy said, consciously ignoring the implications of his previous statement.

"Well, a friend of mine discouraged my usual attire," he said, "But I'm done trying to impress – I want my normal clothes."

"I personally like your normal clothes," Nancy said, suppressing a grin, "To be honest, you look a little goofy in a button-down shirt."

"I look goofy all the time," he said self-effacingly.

"OK, so you look goofy and uncomfortable."

"That clinches it," Murdock said, standing up, "I'm going to get some clean clothes."

He walked towards the kitchen door, and stopped, "Wanna come with me?" he asked hopefully, holding out a hand.

She looked at the outstretched hand indecisively for a moment, before nodding and looking up at Murdock with a smile, "Sure."

Glimpse of the Past – Clue to the Future 

At Murdock's apartment, they walked in the door, and up the steps, holding hands. On the second floor they passed a young woman. Murdock smiled half-heartedly at her, "Hi, Erica."

"Hi, HM," she said continuing to the head of the stairs, but looking over her shoulder curiously as Murdock opened the door and led Nancy into his apartment.

The message light was blinking on the answering machine, and Murdock punched the play button out of habit. Face's voice floated out, "Murdock, you need to call, ASAP, the Ge . . ." and Murdock hastily punched the button, again, to cut the message off, "My friend," he said, dismissively "Probably wants to know how our date went."

"So, what are you going to tell him?"

"I'll have to let him know when it's over," he said teasingly, leaning down for a quick kiss, "Make yourself at home – I'll just be a few minutes."

Murdock walked down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door, and leaving Nancy alone in the living room. He picked up the phone by his bed and dialed the Compound, as he started gathering clean clothes.

Hannibal answered on the first ring, "Hey, Murdock."

"Hi, Colonel, what's up? Face left a message . . ."

"You need to be here by 0800 tomorrow, and come packed and ready to roll, just in case," Hannibal said, "We have a ton of surveillance documentation coming in to review before the mission briefing."

Murdock's shoulders slumped, "Tomorrow morning?" he asked dejectedly.

"You're lucky I'm not asking you to come in today," Hannibal said sharply, then relented, "Listen, I'm sorry Murdock, but you had to know this was coming when you saw that Stockwell was here."

"I know," Murdock said, "I was just hoping it would be a few days."

"Did you just get home?" Hannibal asked.

"Actually, I just stopped by to grab some clean clothes," Murdock said, as he moved around the tiny room gathering more clothes to pack for the next day, "How long are we gonna be gone, Colonel?"

"Probably about two weeks," Hannibal said, "We'll know better after the briefing tomorrow morning."

"Alright," Murdock said, resignedly, "I'll see you in the morning, Hannibal."

"Enjoy yourself, Murdock," Hannibal said, adding with mock severity, "But don't be late tomorrow. Hang on, Face wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Murdock, how'd things go with the lady pilot last night?" Face asked.

"Good, Facey," Murdock said shortly, "Listen, I gotta get going. We can talk more tomorrow."

Face was taken aback by Murdock's response, usually he liked to take his dates apart in detail, to get Face's read on whether the woman was interested or not, "OK, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Murdock. Bye."

Face put the phone down slowly, it bothered him that Murdock had been so short with him on the phone. He turned to find Hannibal watching him, "So, Lieutenant, what do you think?"

"He didn't say anything about his date, other than it went 'good'," Face said thoughtfully, "You don't think that means she gave him the cold shoulder, do you?"

"No, actually, I don't think the date was really over. Murdock told me he'd just stopped by to pick up some clean clothes," Hannibal chuckled, "Sounded like his date was going better than 'good'."

"Oh," Face said.

Murdock hung up the phone and opened the closet, hastily pulling out his duffle. If he packed and threw it in the truck, it would mean he could spend that much more time with Nancy, and he was planning on making every minute count.

Meanwhile, Nancy wandered around the apartment curiously. The kitchen was small, galley-style and was neat and orderly. She moved into the living room/dining room. The living room had minimal furniture – only a couch and coffee table with a console TV in the corner. Along the wall separating the kitchen and living room was a tiny dining table with two chairs. The dining table and coffee table were scattered with newspapers and magazines, in varied states of being read. The last piece of furniture was a book shelf that lined the short hall that led to the bathroom and bedroom. The book shelf held several old psychiatric text books, a good-sized collection of comic books, a pile of library books, and some scattered memorabilia, which she examined with interest.

There were a couple old model airplanes, and a shelf full of record albums. She skimmed the titles – classic and psychedelic rock like the Moody Blues, Jimi Hendrix, and The Doors were scattered among more current music choices including Billy Joel, MatchBox20, and Alice in Chains, among others.

Next she picked up a photo of Murdock, in dress uniform, with three other men. She gazed at it for awhile with a nagging sense of recognition, but finally decided that it was hopeless to try to force the memory. It would come to her, eventually. There was a photo of a group of men standing outside a Huey. Another photo showed a weathered old man standing on the edge of a grass airstrip next to a Taylorcraft similar to Aunt Bea. Another was a faded and worn photo of a young woman in a meadow full of daisies with young boy. The last photo on the shelf was a formal portrait of an elderly couple, who were unmistakably related to Murdock.

The bedroom door opened, and Nancy turned, as Murdock took the two steps down the short hallway, looking at the picture she held in her hand.

"That's my grandparents," he said, unprompted, "My Mom's folks. I don't know what woulda happened to me if it weren't for them."

Nancy set the picture down, and indicated the one showing the young woman with the little boy, "Is that you and your Mom?" she asked curiously.

"Yea," he said with a reminiscent smile, "That was just a year or so before she died. I used to always love the time we spent at Gram and Gramp's place."

Murdock pointed to the next one, "That's Lumpy Grant, he taught me how to fly in that Taylorcraft – little older model than Aunt Bea, but a great little plane."

He picked up the next picture, "This was my first chopper crew, as air chief," he said, pointing to one of the men, who had on a Flying Tigers jacket, "that was my first peter pilot, Larry Miller. Got into flying 'cause his Dad was one of the original Flying Tigers," Murdock set the photo down, and looked at Nancy sadly, "He was badly injured during a retrieval – gave me that jacket right before he died."

He started to head into the living room, but Nancy stopped him, indicating the photo of Murdock and the three other men in uniform, "What about these guys?" she asked, "Who are they?"

"That's the only family I have left now," he said unhelpfully, moving on out into the living room, and dropping his duffle bag behind the couch, leaving Nancy looking curiously at the photo.

"Nan, I'm going to be leaving town tomorrow," he said as he turned and leaned on the couch, which successfully distracted her from asking anymore about the Team, "I'll probably be gone a couple weeks."

"Where are you going?" she asked, setting the photo down and turning her full attention to him.

"I gotta go help some friends," Murdock said vaguely.

She leaned on the couch next to him, "You leave tomorrow?" he nodded, and she continued, "What time?"

"Gotta meet 'em at 8am."

She crossed her arms, feeling herself draw away, "If you're gone two weeks, I may not be here when you get back . . .," she looked up at him uncertainly.

Murdock put an arm around her shoulders, "But you won't be gone forever, right?" he said encouragingly, "I'll see you when you get back in town."

Nancy shrugged, "It's just . . . well, it may be awhile . . . depending on the assignment."

Murdock crossed his arms, looking at her curiously, "Trying to give me an easy out?"

"You've only known me a couple days," she said, looking up at him, almost defiantly, "I'm just trying to be realistic. It's not like we've made some kind of commitment."

"I see," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as he tried to keep from smiling, "So, if I decide to go out with someone else, you'd understand?"

Nancy turned and faced him defensively, "Yes, I would," she said, though she was rather nonplussed by the amused expression on his face.

"Why - do you have somebody waiting in the wings?"

"What?" she asked incredulously, "No, I just don't want you to feel obligated since we . . . well, you know . . ." She couldn't seem to bring herself to say 'had sex' and her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment – how was it that he could make her feel so flustered. It wasn't as if he was the first man she'd ever had slept with.

Murdock had his arms crossed now, enjoying her discomfiture, as he pushed her, "Since we made love?" he asked.

"Yes, since we . . . made love," she said quietly, his choice of wording giving her pause.

Their eyes met, and Murdock smiled at her tenderly, "We made love," he repeated, "That means something to me. Does it mean anything to you?"

Nancy had been thrown by his choice of words, and found herself caught off-guard yet again. It was a feeling with which she was becoming very familiar the more time she spent with HM. She took a deep breath, perhaps that was the underlying problem, "Yes, it means something to me," she said candidly, "This whole situation is . . . it's totally out of character for me. You have me incredibly off-balance."

"Yea, I'm working at that," Murdock admitted with a smile, "I get the distinct impression it's about the only chance I've got to win you over."

As he stood up, he took her hand, "C'mon, we've still got the rest of the day, together," he said cheerfully, "What do you want to do? What about a picnic?" he looked at her hopefully.

Nancy looked at him in confusion, but found herself nodding agreement, "That sounds good . . .," she said, her thoughts tumbling about as she attempted to recover from the last few minutes. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, "I know the perfect place for a picnic."

"I've got all the fixin's," Murdock said, indicating the kitchen.

Nancy allowed herself to be swept into the kitchen, where they spent the next half hour packing sandwiches, chips, fruit and iced tea for a picnic, then loaded it into a backpack. They drove out to the airfield, and took Aunt Bea out to a grass landing strip that ran through an alfalfa field. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and big cottony clouds. Though it was still warm, there was a nice breeze, and the humidity had dropped.

They stretched out a blanket in the shade of one of Aunt Bea's wings and ate a leisurely brunch, then lay back in each others arms, looking up at the sky and playing 'I Spy' with the cloud shapes.

"That one is definitely a pirate ship," Murdock said insistently, "It even has a Jolly Roger over it."

"If anything, it looks, _maybe_, like a deformed bunny to me," Nancy said, shaking her head, "But I am rapidly coming to the realization that your imagination is much more active than mine."

"Or much more twisted," Murdock said, "Cloud shapes aren't a whole lot different than inkblots, and I've always sucked at those, too."

Nancy leaned up on an elbow and looked at him, "You just see the world a little differently than most people," she said, "I, on the other hand, totally lack imagination. For me an inkblot was always just what it looked like – no pretty pictures, no hidden messages – just an inkblot. Just goes to show that there really are no right answers."

"Yep, no right answers," he agreed, "that's 'cause they're all wrong!"

Nancy laughed at his woeful expression, which made him smile. He reached up a hand and brushed the hair out of her face, gently caressing her cheek. He slid a hand behind her neck, gently pulling her down for a kiss. Nancy pulled back and looked at him searchingly, "HM, what do you think we're doing?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm falling in love with the most intelligent, interesting, and beautiful woman I've ever met," Murdock smiled at her, "And just for the record, you keep me pretty well off-balance, too. I just think that I'm a little more used to that feeling than you are. What do you think?"

Nancy considered him for a moment before answering truthfully, "I've never felt this way about anyone . . . I'm not sure what that means, but I do know I don't want it to go away."

Murdock smiled as he ran a thumb along her jaw line, "That's very encouraging."

They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around in the shade of Aunt Bea's wing, finally heading back to the airfield about 6pm. On the way back to Nancy's, they stopped at the grocery store to pick up something for dinner.

After checking out, they were walking past the gumball machines by the door when Murdock suddenly stopped and dug a quarter out of his pocket, "Hot dog!" he said gleefully.

Nancy turned and looked at him curiously, "What are you doing?"

The quarter machine had already delivered his prize, "Seeing as how I won't have a chance to get something proper before I leave tomorrow morning . . ." he opened the little plastic container, and held out a cheap metal necklace with a tiny heart hanging off of it.

"It's perfect," Murdock said happily, draping it ceremoniously around Nancy's neck, and giving her a kiss on the cheek in the process, "After all you do have my heart on a silver string . . ."

Nancy pulled her hair out of the circle of the chain, and held up the little silver heart to look at it, then smiled up at him, "It's lovely."

"You lie," Murdock grinned, "but at least it'll remind you of me while I'm gone."

"Thank you . . . really," Nancy said, "But honestly, there's no chance that I'll forget you, HM."

When they arrived at Nancy's townhouse, they put the groceries away. Then while Murdock grilled chicken, Nancy prepared a tossed salad. Murdock came in from the back patio, carrying the chicken on a platter, and walked up behind Nancy. He set the plate down on the counter, then put his arms around her waist, after pulling her hair back so he could nuzzle playfully at her neck.

Nancy chuckled as she wiggled in his arms, "HM, you're going to make me cut off a finger . . ." she said. He took the knife out of her hand and put it on the counter, as she turned in his arms, and they kissed.

Nancy pulled back, "We need to eat," she said chidingly.

Murdock sighed, "OK," he agreed reluctantly, "But promise that we'll pick up right where we left off."

"Promise," Nancy said, slipping out of his arms to finish the salad.

They ate a leisurely supper, then at Nancy's insistence cleaned up the dishes before wandering back into the living room to relax. Nancy curled up on the couch next to Murdock, settling into the crook of his arm, and fingering the heart on the necklace thoughtfully.

Murdock reached down and took her hand, smoothing the necklace down on her shirt, "Wish I had time to buy you a proper gift," he said ruefully.

"I wouldn't trade this for anything, HM," she said warmly.

Murdock smiled at her, "I hope you don't mean just the necklace."

Back to the Grind 

Murdock woke the next morning and looked at the clock – 5:30 am. Nancy was still sound asleep, laying in his arms, and he settled back down. There was no need to wake her this early.

At 6:30 he reluctantly nudged her awake, "Hey Short Cake, I gotta get moving."

Nancy looked up at him, "I know," she said sadly, "I was just enjoying this."

"How long have you been sand bagging?" he asked with a smile.

She sighed, "Not long enough."

Murdock kissed her forehead, then sat up on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna get a quick shower," he said, glancing down to where Nancy still laid looking up at him lazily, "Then I'll make some breakfast – whadya want?"

She shrugged, "I'm not picky," she grinned, "Especially if somebody else is doin' the cookin'!"

It was a few minutes before Nancy was able to muster the ambition to get out of bed. When she got into the bathroom, Murdock was already done with his shower and getting dressed in his usual attire.

"Too slow, too late," she said in disappointment, leaning against the doorjamb.

He grinned, and leaned down to give her a kiss, "I'm going to go down and make breakfast . . . don't fall asleep in the shower."

Murdock went downstairs and surveyed the cupboards, finally deciding on eggs and toast and sausage. By the time he had breakfast done, Nancy had come down, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, as she had been unwilling to put on her usual uniform this early.

She brought in the newspaper from the doorstep, and they ate and read, with sporadic conversation, trying to ignore the fact that Murdock was going to have to leave soon.

Murdock stood and took his dishes to the sink, looking absently at his watch, "I gotta go, Short Cake," he said, gulping down the last of his coffee, rinsed his cup, and set it on the counter.

Nancy stood up and walked with him to the door, where they stood and quietly held each other for a few minutes. Murdock finally kissed the top of her head, "Hopefully, I'll see you in a couple weeks," and with one last kiss, he turned and walked resolutely out the door.

She closed the door and sighed, thinking it was going to be a long couple weeks.

Reality Strikes 

Murdock pulled up outside the Compound a few minutes late, feeling lucky to have dodged a speeding ticket. He walked in the front door without knocking and was met by Hannibal, who had obviously been waiting for him.

"You're late," Hannibal said.

"Sorry," Murdock said, looking absently at his watch.

"I'll let it slide this time, since there are extenuating circumstances," Hannibal said, smiling, "Face, BA, and Frankie are back in the record room reviewing the surveillance documentation. We better get back there."

As they walked, Hannibal looked at Murdock sideways, "So, you and this lady pilot seem to have hit it off rather quickly," he said leadingly.

"She's a special lady, Hannibal," Murdock said, smiling thoughtfully, "Kinda lady gives a guy thoughts about settling down."

"Sounds serious," Hannibal said with a raised eyebrow, "And maybe a little premature. You've only known her a few days."

"I'm looking forward to spending a lot more time with her," Murdock said certainly, "_A lot more time_."

"Definitely serious," Hannibal said, stopping outside the door to the record room, "Hopefully we'll get to meet her when we get back."

Hannibal opened the door, revealing BA, Face, and Frankie sifting through scattered surveillance photos and notes.

BA looked up as they entered, "Hannibal, we gonna be flyin'?" he looked at Murdock accusingly.

"Not a whole lot of choice, Sergeant," Hannibal said with finality, then asked the group in general, "What do you think of the surveillance records?"

BA lapsed into a sullen silence, as Face indicated the jumble of materials in front of him, "Well, it's gonna take a little time to sift through all this, there's an incredible amount of detail, and the surveillance spanned about 14 months," he said, "The General said the agents that had this assignment are coming in at 10 for a briefing, right?"

Murdock sat down and looked at the main aerial photograph, which had been supplemented by several, closer up shots. All were different views of a hacienda that appeared to be settled in a remote area, surrounded by thick rainforest.

"Where is this place?" Murdock asked.

"Columbia," Hannibal supplied, "Stockwell has had two agents down there for the last 14 months watching this guy," he held out a news photo of a smiling, handsome, dark-haired man obviously of Latin decent. The tag read 'Antonio Palumbo, Columbian entrepreneur and philanthropist.'

Murdock was only half-listening to Hannibal as several scenes flashed through his mind's eye. Charlie asking Nancy about being waylaid in Columbia. Nancy talking about being on assignment for the last 14 months. Nancy needing to head into work today at 10am. He shook his head. No, it was just a coincidence. It had to be.

Murdock bent back over the photos, "Looks like they have a couple helipads on the roof," he said absently, "Exactly what are we going to be doing?"

"That's what we find out at 10," Hannibal said, "for now, let's get as much information as we can from these surveillance records."

Nancy walked down the stairs and threw her suit jacket over the back of the couch, walking into the kitchen to refill her coffee cup. She'd made herself another pot of coffee after draining the one Murdock had made while she finished reading the paper. She was wired, which wasn't helping with the agitation she invariably felt when she was going to be seeing the General.

The doorbell rang, and she quickly drained the cup of coffee she'd just poured, cursing as the hot liquid ran down her chin and onto her white oxford shirt. Trixie was early, and she sighed, wiping at the spilled coffee irritably as she hurried to open the door.

Trixie came in looking very neat in her black suit and white oxford with a understated pin at the throat and a hot pink hankie popping out of the jacket pocket. Unlike Nancy, rather than outright defiance against the male-oriented dress code, Trixie had chosen to feminize it subtly, making it marginally more palatable to wear.

She looked at Nancy critically. Her pants were disheveled and she was still working at trying to clean the coffee off the wrinkled white shirt, which was only haphazardly tucked into the pants.

Trixie finally reached out and took the dish towel, "Just go up and change your shirt," she said in a motherly tone, "We've got time."

Nancy made a face at her, but complied, returning a few minutes later buttoning up another white oxford – this one with no coffee stain.

Trixie watched as Nancy twisted her hair and clipped it on top of her head with an alligator clip that she had clenched in her teeth. Finally, she picked her jacket up off the back of the couch, and shrugged into it, "I'm ready," Nancy said.

"You aren't gonna tuck your shirt in?" Trixie asked critically.

Nancy glanced down at herself, and shrugged, "Nope."

Trixie chuckled, shaking her head in resignation, "Always trying to get the General going, one way or another," she said in amusement.

Nancy shrugged, "Gotta get my kicks somewhere."

"We've got a little time," Trixie said, "How about a cup of coffee?"

Nancy shrugged again and walked into the kitchen, pouring Trixie a cup of coffee, and draining the last of the pot into her own cup. She turned and handed the cup to Trixie and they sat down at the table.

"Nice flowers," Trixie said, indicating the daisies.

"HM gave them to me," Nancy said matter-of-factly.

Trixie took a sip, then looked at Nancy curiously, "So, Did HM stay again last night?"

"Not that it's really any of your business, but yes," Nancy replied, her foot tapping incessantly on the floor.

"Don't get defensive, I was just curious," Trixie said, her eyes dancing, "Though I have to say that you let him get awful close, awful fast. That's very unlike you."

Nancy played with her mug, looking thoughtfully at the liquid inside, "He caught me in a weak moment," she finally said, looking up at her friend, "I don't know, Trix . . . something about him just . . .," Nancy stopped, trying to find words to express what she was feeling.

"Makes your head swim?" Trixie supplied.

"I suppose that's one way to put it," Nancy agreed cautiously, "To be totally honest, on one hand, he scares the shit out of me. And on the other hand, he makes me feel . . . I don't know, content, comfortable . . ?"

"Well, I do declare," Trixie said, fanning herself and batting her eyes, "It sounds like the brash and independent Ms. Clay has finally met her match!"

"Yea, well, we'll see if it survives him finding out who I really am," Nancy said, "The truth is going to be a bit of a shocker. He's the first guy outside of law enforcement that I've ever dated."

Trixie nodded, then looked up at her, "Have you talked to Carla yet?"

"No," Nancy said, hesitating, "I'll touch base with her today, if I see her."

"Yea, like she'll be around," Trixie said snidely, "You know she avoids you like the plague."

Nancy smiled in self-satisfaction, "Yea, she does, doesn't she?"

"I guess this means you and HM will be seeing more of each other . . ."

"I think we've seen just about all of each other there is," Nancy said drolly.

"You know what I mean," Trixie said, "Anyway, Joe will be glad to hear it, he really liked HM. And _I_ think he's good for you."

"Well, thank goodness," Nancy said theatrically, "I was really worried that you and Joe would approve."

"Smartass."

Nancy stood up and drained her coffee, "Let's get this over with," she said in agitation, "I'm still hoping this is just a briefing and we'll get at least a few more weeks off. I really want to be here when HM gets back from his trip."

"Where's he going?"

"I don't really know . . . Out of town," Nancy said, picking up the two coffee cups, as she considered how little she knew about where HM was going or what he was going to be doing, "He said he needed to go help out some friends and will be back in a couple weeks," she said, shrugging off the nagging uneasiness, "I warned him that I might be gone again, but I'm really hoping I'm not."

"You never know," Trixie said, "I'm planning on handing in my resignation next week, if all goes well. You'll be without a partner, so you may be stuck in town until they hook you up with a new one."

"And maybe I'll resign, too," Nancy said.

"Yea, right," Trixie said, "Only you have a lot more to lose than I do."

Nancy shrugged noncommittally as they headed out to Trixie's car. At the end of the drive, Trixie took a right instead of a left, and Nancy looked at her curiously, "Aren't we going out to the airfield?"

Trixie shook her head, "Nope. We're headed to the Compound."

"The General hasn't used that place in awhile," Nancy said in surprise.

"Yea, I wondered about that, too," Trixie said, a smug smile on her face – she very rarely knew more than Nancy about what was going on with Stockwell Enterprises, "Then I ran into Jeff and Mary Kent at the grocery store last night, and Jeff told me some interesting news . . ." she stopped for effect.

Nancy smiled tolerantly, "And that news would be . . . ?"

"General Stockwell has acquired the services of the A-Team!"

Nancy looked at Trixie in surprise, the A-Team . . . the photograph from Murdock's apartment flashed in her mind's eye. That's who those men were. That was why they looked so familiar.

"Nan, are you alright?" Trixie asked, looking at her curiously, "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"How did he . . . _acquire_ the services of the A-Team?" Nancy asked hollowly.

"Well, I'm not sure," Trixie said, "We were in a grocery store, so we really didn't get a chance to discuss the particulars. Jeff just told me that they were staying out at the Compound. But as I recall it was about a year and a half ago they were on trial – 'member, it was all over the news right before we left for Columbia that they'd been convicted of murdering their commanding officer."

Nancy nodded mutely, and they rode in silence for several minutes.

Trixie finally broke the silence, obviously having been mulling over the situation, "You know, it's curious. I thought they were supposed to be executed. I wonder how the General finagled their release? I'll bet there's a heck of a story behind the scenes there. Maybe we'll find out today . . ."

She looked over at Nancy, who normally would have been developing alternate scenarios right along with her, "Nan, what's the problem?" Trixie asked, seeing the tension in her friends face.

"I've seen them . . .," she replied quietly.

"Really? Where? Jeff said they'd been pretty much confined to the Compound . . ." Trixie said.

"Actually, I saw a photograph of them," Nancy corrected herself, then turned and looked at Trixie directly, "In HM's apartment."

Trixie let that sink in for a moment, then tried to explain it away, "Maybe he knew them, that doesn't necessarily _mean_ anything – Joe said they were famous . . . or infamous, depending on whose side you believed, the military or the Team."

"He was in the picture _with_ them," Nancy said, "Remember, he told us he flew for a special forces unit . . . "

"Yea, but Joe said that seemed a little weird," Trixie said dismissively, "The Alpha Teams used whatever chopper crew was available. They didn't have one assigned."

"Don't you think that it's a bit of a coincidence that the General acquired the A-Team about a year ago, which is about the time HM moved here," Nancy asked, growing more agitated.

"Not only that, but yesterday, after we stopped by his apartment," Nancy went over the whole discussion in her head, nodding with certainty, "That's when he said he had to leave town for a couple weeks to help some friends. I'll bet those friends are the A-Team and he's going with them to Columbia on whatever mission the General has cooked up for them."

They had pulled up outside the gate, which had an Abel detail working it. Trixie and Nancy both flashed their IDs silently. As Trixie pulled through the now open gate, following a long drive back through thickets of trees and undergrowth, she said calmly, "Nan, you're getting all upset over a simple coincidence."

They pulled into the wide end of the drive, the Compound house coming into view, along with the other vehicles lined up in the small parking area, including a now-familiar little red truck.

Nancy sat back and crossed her arms, "Simple coincidence, huh?" she said shortly, "Then perhaps you can explain why HM's truck is here."

Trixie looked at it, perplexed, "Are you sure that's his?"

"Yea, I'm sure," Nancy said, "I really don't want the General to know . . . at least until I sort things out with HM."

Trixie took a deep breath as she turned off the ignition, "Well, then we'll just have to make sure he doesn't find out," she said reasonably.

She glanced at the clock, "Listen, Nan, we're about 15 minutes early. Why don't you let me go in and see if I can corner HM and explain what's going on, before you walk in and shock the hell out of him. That way there's no surprises – especially with the General around."

No Coincidence 

Trixie walked into the house, finding a man with dark hair, slicked back into a pony tail, coming out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee. She smiled at him, "Hi, I'm Trixie Martin," she said, "Is, um, is the pilot here?"

"He's down that hall," Frankie said, looking at her curiously, "second door on the left."

"Thanks," Trixie said, turning and walking through the living room, she gave the others there a casual glance before following his instructions.

She opened the door without knocking, and cleared her throat. Murdock was alone in the room, poring over the surveillance photos in an attempt to locate a landing zone closer to the hacienda than the nearest airfield. He turned and looked at her, registering not shock, but resignation.

Trixie closed the door, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so _unhappy_ to see me in my life," she said, as she turned back to him, "You certainly don't appear to be overly surprised, though."

"I kept telling myself it was just a coincidence," Murdock said quietly, "I was _really _hoping it was just a coincidence."

"I just wanted to come in and make sure you knew before we all showed up at the briefing and blew things in front of the General. It would be best, at least for the time being, if he _didn't_ know about the two of you."

Murdock was looking down at the photo in front of him. He'd drawn a circle around a promising location. He now tapped his pen thoughtfully on the table, "I don't want the General to know any more than Nan does," he said, "In fact, probably less."

"I doubt that," Trixie said as she sat down in an adjacent chair and considered him thoughtfully, "HM, I don't know what happened between you and the Team and the General. But, you've got to know that Nancy cares about you. I've never seen her open up so quickly to a man before."

"I care about her, too," Murdock said, "But this is really going to complicate things. If this was just about me, it would be much easier . . . but this is about the Team, and I can't let them down."

"You two need to talk, but this isn't the time or place," Trixie said.

"I don't know that there's really anything to talk about," Murdock said quietly, "I won't do anything that could jeopardize the Teams' pardons."

Just then the door opened and Hannibal stuck his head in, "Murdock, it's about time for the briefing. Wrap it up and get out here."

"Be right there Colonel," Murdock said, adding as an afterthought, "I've found a landing zone about 10 klicks east of the hacienda and over a ridge – should provide a good backup position."

"Good," Hannibal said, noticing Trixie, he asked suspiciously, "Who are you?"

Trixie smiled, standing and holding out a hand, "Trixie Martin, Abel 12," she said in a friendly voice.

Hannibal regarded her with glittering ice-blue eyes, then looked at his watch, pointedly ignoring her offered hand, "It's time for the briefing," he said flatly as he turned and walked out of the room.

Trixie allowed her hand to drop to her side, "Nice to meet you, too . . ."

Murdock didn't say anything, just stalked past her and followed his commanding officer out to the living room. Trixie sighed, this was worse than she thought.

Meanwhile, as Trixie disappeared into the house, Nancy had gotten out of the car and paced in the driveway for about a minute, before turning and heading resolutely into the house. General Stockwell's limo was here, which meant he was inside. And she fully intended to find out how he had managed this little coup.

Inside, she found a couple men sitting in the living room talking quietly, though the conversation ended abruptly when she entered. She recognized one of them as a member of the A-Team, the big African-American sergeant, and he was talking to another man she didn't recognize, with a big toothy smile and slicked-back, dark hair. She nodded in greeting, and was met with curious, wary gazes.

She could hear voices down the west wing, but she turned and headed back to the General's private office, at the rear of the east wing of the house. The door was closed, so she knocked, and pushed the door open upon hearing a muffled, "Enter."

She closed the door behind her, as the General looked up from his desk, "Hello, Nancy," he said warmly, then his eyes narrowed and he added severely, "Tuck in your shirt, _Able 5_."

Nancy sighed, but she knew when to pick her fights, and this wasn't one of them, so she obediently tucked in her shirt, as General Stockwell waved her to a seat, "It's good to see you," he said calmly, "I trust your father is well . . ."

"Dad's fine," she responded shortly, knowing that Stockwell really didn't give a shit about her father's health, "I was surprised when Trixie and I got called into work _two weeks early_," she added forthrightly as she took a seat in front of his desk.

"Couldn't be avoided," the General said.

Nancy considered General Stockwell silently for a moment, then asked casually, "What's this I hear about the A-Team working for Stockwell Enterprises?"

"I suppose work is one way to view it," Stockwell said with mock thoughtfulness, "The A-Team is _working_ for their pardons."

"Working for their . . .," Nancy rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay, "You're blackmailing them?"

"They came willingly enough," the General said calmly, "I wouldn't call it blackmail. It is a simple exchange of services – theirs for mine."

Nancy was thinking of what Trixie had said that morning, "But, how did you arrange this? They were due to be executed," she sat forward and looked at him accusingly, "Who did you pay off to stop that?"

"No one," Stockwell replied, "I simply afforded resources to an individual who could make sure that the execution failed."

"And just who would that be?" Nancy asked, "Not making unholy alliances, again, are you? You know how I hate it when you start calling in favors from your old CIA buddies."

"This was not an old CIA 'buddy'," Stockwell said tartly. Then a Cheshire-like smile spread across his face, and his look turned thoughtful, "Though he is an ex-agent. The Captain had a vested interest in ensuring that the execution failed. He came to me . . . not that I hadn't prompted the initial contact. In the end, it was their choice."

Nancy felt her stomach lurch. All her instincts were telling her that the Captain he was referring to was Murdock. She couldn't believe he was ex-CIA. Perhaps she should have asked for that background check earlier.

She tried to cover her discomfiture with another question, "What are they going to be doing in Columbia? I thought that the DEA wanted to take Palumbo down personally. That's why you called Trixie and me back in."

"That's not the only reason," Stockwell said, considering her seriously, "The DEA is not in a position to make a move at this point in time," he added quietly, his eyes reflecting concern, "Palumbo has taken Littleford prisoner."

Nancy sat forward, "What about Nolan?" Nolan and Littleford had been the DEA agents that Nancy and Trixie had worked with.

"Nolan's still under cover," Stockwell said, "But Palumbo is sending a clear message to the DEA – make a move and Littleford pays the price."

"He's probably already paying the price," Nancy said practically.

"I'm sending the A-Team in to bring Littleford and Nolan out," Stockwell said, "Then the DEA is free to do whatever they like."

"They're going to need support," Nancy said.

"They're resourceful," Stockwell said, "That is what they are compensated for."

"If you really want to ensure their success, you'll send me with them," Nancy said quietly.

"Recent indications are that Palumbo made you," the General said harshly, "You'll be marked if you set foot in Columbia right now."

"But I'll be with the A-Team," Nancy argued, "And they're there for one purpose, which is going to make them marked, too. I don't see what the difference is."

"You know what the difference is," Stockwell said tightly.

"We agreed when this started," Nancy said evenly, "I'm treated just like any other agent."

"I wouldn't send any other Abel agent in there, either, under those circumstances."

"But you'll send the A-Team?" she asked.

"They are trained killers," the General said indifferently, "They can handle themselves."

"Well, whether you like it or not, I'm going with them," Nancy said firmly.

"It's neither appropriate, nor necessary," Stockwell said dismissively.

"I believe it is both appropriate and necessary," Nancy disagreed, "I've been down there for the last 14 months and developed the network and information that they're going to need to get Littleford and Nolan out, making me necessary. And since Stockwell Enterprises depends upon their success for an ongoing working relationship with the DEA, it is perfectly appropriate."

Stockwell's jaw clenched, "Whatever you have to offer, you can provide here," he said, "There's no need for you and Abel 12 to go traipsing to Columbia."

Nancy gazed at him levelly, "Not Abel 12, just me."

"If you go, so does Abel 12 – you're a team."

The General looked at his watch, "It's time for the briefing, this conversation is over."

"This conversation is far from over," Nancy said angrily.

"You are being insubordinate," the General said sharply.

"If I were just another agent, I would agree," Nancy said, choosing a conciliatory tone, "But since I'm your business partner, I would hardly call this insubordination."

"_Silent_ partner," the General clarified, "a position, I'll remind you, which you chose when you became an agent."

"Well, I'm not so sure the silent partner role was ever, technically, my thing," Nancy said with a slight smile, which quickly vanished, "And I'm not at all happy to learn that a company, of which I own half, has resorted to blackmail to obtain new recruits."

"You own 48," Stockwell corrected, "and the agreement with the A-Team is hopefully just a starting point to create a more lasting working arrangement."

"Surely you could have approached them on a less confrontational tact, and offered them a job in exchange for their pardons," Nancy argued, "Then, perhaps, you wouldn't be dealing with a group of men who likely hate your guts. Just how do you plan to convince them to stay?"

A rare smile crossed the General's face, and he removed his glasses and looked at Nancy warmly, "You remind me so much of your mother at times like this . . ." he said reminiscently.

"Y_ou_ are evading the question," Nancy said harshly.

Stockwell's usual impassive expression returned like a mask as he replaced his glasses, "The A-Team is not your concern, Abel 5," he said, "I will take your proposal regarding the Columbia mission under consideration. Now, let's head out to the briefing room."

"It's a living room, General," Nancy said, suppressing a smile at his sharp glance. He didn't reply, just turned and stalked down the hall, leaving her to follow.

Very Brief 

General Stockwell walked into the living room, followed closely by Nancy, who ducked in front of him and joined Trixie to stand on the far side of the video screen. The lights flicked off and an aerial of the hacienda appeared on the screen, "I hope you gentlemen have had a chance to review at least some of the surveillance data."

"Hardly time to scratch the surface," Hannibal replied, "You could have given us a little more time."

"You'll have time . . . and assistance," Stockwell said calmly, continuing the briefing as if uninterrupted, "This is Antonio Palumbo's hacienda, located in the middle of the Columbian rainforest."

A photo of Palumbo flashed on screen, "Antonio Palumbo has managed to develop an extensive distribution network for his drugs, and the DEA approached me regarding a joint effort to develop the information necessary to allow an incursion into his home turf. That work has been underway for the last 14 months."

"The DEA agents involved are Richard Nolan and Frederick Littleford," Agency photos of Nolan and Littleford appeared on the screen, "As well as two Abel Agents, Abel 5, Nancy Clay, and Abel 12, Trixie Ja . . . Martin," he indicated Nancy and Trixie with a nod of his head.

"Abel 5 and Abel 12 developed much of the surveillance information you've been reviewing, while Nolan and Littleford managed to infiltrate Palumbo's network," Another photo appeared, showing Nolan with aviator glasses standing over workers i

n a field, then changed to show Littleford framed in a window of the hacienda, sitting at a desk.

"Shortly after our team was pulled out, Palumbo discovered Littleford was DEA and took him hostage. Nolan has managed to remain undercover, but his situation is tenuous at best," the General turned the projector off, looking at Nancy warningly as she made a derisive noise.

"The DEA wants its agents back," he said, looking out over the assembled men as the lights came up.

"Abel 5 and Abel 12 will be available to answer any questions you have about the surveillance data," Stockwell said, "They spent 14 months in Columbia, observing the activities at the hacienda, and should be able to provide you with whatever information you need for the extraction."

"You leave at 0600 Wednesday morning, gentlemen. Abel 8 is gathering the supplies you'll need for the trip, here's what he has inventoried so far," he handed the inventory to Hannibal and turned to Murdock, "he will await your loading instructions, Captain. You'll be taking the cargo plane. If there's anything else you need, let Abel 8 know."

"Colonel Smith, when you have completed handing out assignments, I'd like to see you in my office."

"Good luck, gentlemen, and good day," General Stockwell said, and with that retreated abruptly to his office.

Hannibal turned to Face, handing him the inventory, "Check it over Face, and let Jeff know what else we need. Frankie, make sure Face packs some of your magic – looking at those gun towers, I'd say we're gonna need all the help we can get. BA, get the hardware ready."

"Murdock, head back to the record room and let's get the rest of that surveillance data digested. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with the General. I want to see this LZ you've identified," he said, "Then once Face finishes the inventory, you'll need to complete the flight planning."

Now he turned to where Nancy and Trixie were standing silently, "You two are with Murdock and me for now. Much as I hate to admit it, we need help getting through everything and making sense of it," he crossed his arms and looked at them narrowly, his distrust apparent.

Trixie stood up and looked at Hannibal coolly, "We aren't the enemy, Colonel," she said evenly, "We'll help however we can, but you're going to have to trust us."

"Trust is earned, not given," Hannibal said looking Trixie directly in the eye, and sparing Nancy a brief glare before turning to his assembled men, "Alright, guys, let's move it, we leave in just over 45 hours."

As the A-Team headed out to their respective assignments, and Hannibal stalked down the hall to the General's office, Nancy stood up, "Friendly kinda guy, that Colonel Smith, huh?" she said as she slid past her partner and followed Murdock down the hall.

Hannibal walked into Stockwell's office, "You wanted to see me?"

"Abels 5 and 12 will be accompanying you to Columbia to aid with the recovery."

"We don't need their help," Hannibal said, his teeth clenched on his cigar, "My team is tight and outsiders generally just muck things up."

Stockwell turned and looked at Hannibal sharply, "This isn't a negotiation, Colonel. They will be going with you. They've spent the last 14 months down there, and they have contacts and resources that will help ensure that you get those agents out alive. There is no way, in less than 48 hours that they can possibly tell you everything they learned over those 14 months."

Hannibal took a deep breath, "I'll want their files, then – I wanna know what I'm getting."

"Their personnel files are off limits, Smith," Stockwell said, shaking his head, "I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Skill sets?"

"Abel 12 is a crime scene analyst by training, good interpersonal skills, an excellent long-range shot, camera or gun, good hand to hand, and I'd put her analytical skills up against anyone I've ever worked with."

He paused, and Hannibal nodded, "OK, how about Abel 5 . . ."

Stockwell took a deep breath, "Abel 5 is a good all around field agent. Excellent pilot – I might even put her up against the Captain, though she has much less time in the air. She's a black belt, thinks fast on her feet," he sighed, "She does, however, have some issues with authority."

"One thing you should know," Stockwell added, "Palumbo may have made Abel 5 while they were down there. She's been in the hacienda – which is an asset, but she could be a target."

"Do I have any choice?" Hannibal asked.

Stockwell shook his head, "No."

"So now, we not only have to get two DEA agents out of the lion's den, but we gotta babysit two Abel agents while we're doing it?" Hannibal asked disgustedly.

Stockwell stood and looked at Hannibal critically, "Abel 5 and Abel 12 are two of my best agents," he said coolly, "Think what you like about me, but my agents can take care of themselves and do not require _babysitting_. You will treat them with respect or you'll be accompanying the MPs back to Fort Bragg – it's your choice, Colonel."

Confrontation 

Murdock had settled at the table when Nancy came walking in, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" she asked, smiling teasingly and hoping to diffuse some of the tension.

"Kinda wishing the answer was 'no' right about now," he said, looking at her warily.

Nancy's smile disappeared and she looked at him sharply, "_You are_ wishing, or am _I_ wishing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Murdock shrugged noncommittally, this whole situation had him a little on edge, and he really didn't feel like dealing with it here and now.

Nancy sat down agitatedly and pulled forward the photo on which Murdock had drawn a circle, with 'LZ' written next to it, "You call that a landing zone?" she asked incredulously.

He looked at it sideways, "It'll be tight, but yes, I call that a landing zone."

Trixie came walking in and sank between them, "Well, this is going just swimmingly, isn't it?" she asked, slumping uncharacteristically in the chair, "Your Colonel definitely dislikes anything labeled Abel," she could usually defrost just about any temperament, but Hannibal was definitely going to be a tough nut to crack.

"Well, it's not like we're honored guests here, or something," Murdock said, irritation edging his voice.

"That's hardly _our_ fault," Nancy argued.

"Guilty by association," Murdock said flatly.

Nancy turned and looked at him directly, "You know, I'm getting the distinct impression that you agree with your Colonel," she said heatedly, "Good little soldier, aren't you?"

"Being good soldiers is what's kept us alive and out of the stockade for the last 10 years," Murdock responded sharply.

"Yea, spending ten years pretending you're nuts is a much better way to live," she returned.

"Preferable to spending 10 years working as an Able automaton," Murdock retorted.

"Cool it, you two," Trixie said sharply, just as the door to the hall opened and Hannibal stuck his head in, "Murdock, we need to talk."

Murdock took a deep, calming breath and stood up, joining Hannibal in the hall, "What's up, Hannibal?"

"I want you to take Abel 5 to the airfield," he said tersely, missing the shocked look that flickered across Murdock's face, "The loading and flight planning can wait until tomorrow. I want you to take her on a run with a chopper – test her skills."

"Why?" Murdock asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"She's going with us," Hannibal said, "Weren't you saying you wished you had a peter pilot for this one? Listen, I want you to run her through her paces. The General says she's good, but I want your honest opinion."

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Hannibal?" Murdock asked anxiously.

"No, I don't," Hannibal said, chewing agitatedly on his cigar, "But we don't really have any choice," he looked at Murdock directly, "See what you can learn about her. Based on what little the General said, she could be trouble."

"Colonel, is Tr . . ., uh Abel 12 going with us too?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Hannibal said.

But, Colonel, she can't . . .," Murdock hesitated.

"What is it, Captain?"

Murdock looked at the ground, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain how he knew about this, but Hannibal should know, "She's pregnant."

Hannibal considered Murdock through narrowed eyes, then turned abruptly and pushed the door open.

"Abel 12, is there something you'd like to share?" Hannibal asked, striding into the room and standing in front of Trixie, arms crossed.

Trixie looked at him warily, "Well that depends what we're talking about . . ."

"Let me put it this way," Hannibal said, "Are you prepared to head to Columbia with us?"

"No, I am not," Trixie said in surprise.

Nancy had stood as well, "Trixie can't go to Columbia," she said quietly.

"Apparently the General thinks she can," Hannibal said, looking at Nancy with passing interest, "He informed me that both of you would be accompanying us to Columbia."

Trixie turned to Nancy, "You asked to go to Columbia, didn't you?" she asked accusingly.

Nancy's jaw was set, "Yes, but I didn't intend for you to go."

"You should have known that if you were going, I was going," Trixie said irritably, "I am, after all, your keeper."

Nancy winced, "I'm sorry, Trix," she said sincerely.

"Don't worry, Colonel," Trixie said, turning to Hannibal, "I won't be joining you in Columbia," she turned and headed out the door, with Nancy following.

Hannibal looked after them in satisfaction, "I don't know how you knew that, but I sure am glad you did," he said, turning to Murdock cheerfully, "Hopefully that'll get both of 'em out of our hair."

Trixie knocked at the General's office door and walked in without waiting for an invitation. He looked up in surprise, as she stopped in front of his desk, her arms crossed, "General, I am not going to Columbia," she stated with finality.

He raised an eyebrow, "Your partner has requested to go to Columbia," he said, as Nancy joined them in the office, pulling the door shut behind her, "And while I am not wild about the idea, it does have its merits. Therefore, you will be accompanying her. It's only for two weeks, at the most."

Trixie took a deep breath, "General, I'm pregnant," she said flatly, "and I haven't been feeling all that great lately. I cannot go to Columbia. I'd be more of a liability than an asset."

"Pregnant," he repeated, his look impassive, "And exactly when did you intend to tell me?"

"After I had actually gotten test results and was sure," Trixie said evenly.

The General considered her silently for a moment, before replying, "Very well, you don't have to go to Columbia."

"Thank you," Trixie said in relief.

The General's gaze refocused behind Trixie, where Nancy was leaning against the door jamb, "You won't be going, either."

He and Nancy locked eyes for a moment, before she said slowly, "I _am_ going to Columbia."

His jaw clenched, and he was about to reply when the phone rang. He put a hand out to pick it up, "I've been waiting for this call," he said in dismissal, but before actually picking up the phone, he looked at Nancy seriously, "This discussion is not over – you can't go to Columbia alone."

Nancy smiled humorlessly as he picked up the phone, "I won't be alone," she said, before turning and following Trixie out of the office.

Stockwell sighed, Nancy was always a challenge, but he knew he'd have to seriously consider her insistence on going to Columbia. He doubted it was a whim, she usually had a good reason when she behaved this way, though unfortunately, he had a good idea what she was concerned about. Once she got an idea in her head, she was generally loathe to let it go, until proven false, and so far, he had been unable to do that.

Confession Interrupted 

Hannibal sat back as Murdock moved to the table and sat down. He had been behaving strangely all morning, "Murdock, what's up? You aren't yourself today," Hannibal said, "Is it that woman you've been seeing?"

Murdock felt a brief surge of panic until he realized that Hannibal hadn't put two and two together, he was simply casting about for reasons that his pilot was acting so peculiar. He didn't trust himself to say anything. He'd never been good at lying to Hannibal. So he tried a casual shrug, bending down over the aerial photo and hoping that Hannibal would accept his silence.

Unfortunately, Hannibal wasn't that easily deterred, "Murdock, we need to get this sorted out," he said in a fatherly tone, "I can't have you distracted in Columbia. We all need to be sharp. Now what's wrong?"

Murdock looked up, considering what he was going to tell Hannibal. He wanted to explain what was going on, but he really wasn't sure he wanted to do it in the Compound. He'd known Stockwell long enough to suspect that the entire place was bugged, "Colonel, we need to talk, but, you know . . . maybe it would be better if we went outside," he looked at Hannibal pointedly.

Hannibal stood up, "OK."

Just then, Trixie came striding back into the record room and Hannibal regarded her with visible irritation.

She walked past him and sat down, mistaking the source of his irritation, "Don't worry, Colonel," she said sourly, "You're shot of me."

Nancy came walking back in as well, and an amused expression crossed Trixie's face, as she said, "You'll have a harder time getting rid of Nan, though," she said, "And she can be a real pain in the ass – I should know."

"Did you ever hear of 'forgive and forget'?" Nancy asked, shaking her head, "Stockwell wasn't upset, and you didn't really have to change your plans. No harm, no foul."

Hannibal's jaw was set, "So, you're still going with us?"

"Yes, Colonel, I am," Nancy said flatly, her gaze direct and defiant.

Hannibal's eyes sparked, "We'll see about that, Abel 5."

A small smile curved her lips, "In the words of Pat Benetar, 'hit me with your best shot' . . . Hannibal."

Hannibal turned to Murdock, "We'll talk later," he said sharply as he shot Nancy a cutting glance, "Test her skills in a chopper. I want her landing that thing in a thicket without a scratch. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Murdock said resignedly, turning to Nancy he motioned towards the door, "Let's go," he said as his long legs carried him quickly down the hall.

Nancy followed him, her expression rebellious, "If you're his best shot, this is going to be a cake walk," she said quietly.

"Are you naturally annoying, or does it take a lot of practice?" he asked irritably, his stride lengthening.

"What can I say," she said facetiously, having to practically jog to keep up with him, "I'm a natural."

Murdock shook his head, "I really don't see the point in alienating Hannibal."

"Alienating him?" she asked incredulously, "He never gave me a chance to alienate him. He started off hating me."

By now they had walked out on the front steps, and Nancy grabbed Murdock's arm and forced him to stop and look at her, "So, tell me, _Captain_," she said forcefully, "Are you going to fall in line or break ranks?"

Murdock's mouth was set in an uncharacteristically grim line, "I'm not sure I'll have a lot of choice in the matter," he said quietly.

Nancy let go of his arm, wishing she hadn't pushed him so hard, but finding it difficult to stop, "Everybody has a choice."

"Let's get something straight, _Abel 5_," Murdock said, allowing his anger at the entire situation free reign, "We haven't had a choice in things since the day General Stockwell got involved. We either fall in line, or end up standing in front of a firing squad. Besides, I don't see you falling all over yourself to tell the boss about us."

Nancy looked at him hollowly, finally replying quietly, "It doesn't sound like there is an 'us'."

Murdock felt guilty as he looked in her eyes and saw the hurt there, but there was nothing to be done. He was just trying to be realistic, "No, I guess there isn't."

He turned abruptly and walked towards his truck, "Get in, and let's get to the airfield."

"Go on," Nancy said, "I'll be there shortly."

He looked at her over the top of the truck. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, wanted to erase that heartrending expression off her face, but he couldn't. He sighed, "Fine, don't be long. I'll have the chopper ready when you get there," he sat down in the truck and slammed the door.

Nancy watched him back out and spit stones as he pulled out in a cloud of dust. She needed some time alone to cool down before facing him again, but that meant she was going to have to find a ride to the airfield.

She glanced around the parking area. Her gaze landed on the General's limo, and she rubbed her hands under her eyes, catching unshed tears – she'd be damned if she was going to cry over a guy she'd known for three days. She quickly composed herself before heading over to the driver's side door. Frank Turner, who had been the General's limo driver for several years, was sitting in the front seat, reading a newspaper and listening to the radio.

She tapped him on the shoulder, "Frank, could I hitch a ride to the airfield. I need to pick up a company car."

Frank smiled, "Sure, Nan, hop in."

He looked in the rearview mirror at her as she got into the limo, "Everything OK? I heard you and that pilot fighting . . ."

"I'm fine," Nancy interrupted sharply, pointedly turning and staring out the window. Frank considered her for a moment before reaching over and putting up the privacy window.

Murdock had driven, probably much too fast, straight to the field. He hurried into the main hangar and stopped at the desk, "Hey, Doc, need a chopper for the afternoon."

Doc nodded and pulled the keys out of a lock box behind the desk, handing them to Murdock along with a flight plan, "So, HM, seemed like you and Nan hit it off the other night . . ." he said leadingly.

It seemed like Friday was a long time ago, and Murdock had pretty much forgotten that Doc was the one that had introduced him and Nancy.

He leaned forward, "Doc, why didn't you tell me she worked for Stockwell?"

Doc looked a little taken aback, "Well, I told you that you had a lot in common," he said, "Besides, I figured you'd talk about it . . ."

Murdock sighed, for a guy who had dealt with spy-types for a long time, Doc sure was naïve, "For future reference, Doc," Murdock said, "That's information that would be helpful _before_ I ask a woman out on a date."

"You and Nan went out?" Doc asked, a broad smile crossing his face, "That's great!"

Doc just wasn't getting it, Murdock glanced over his shoulder, "Keep it down," he hissed, "It's not great, it's a disaster."

"I'm not sure I understand what the problem is?" Doc said in confusion.

Murdock shook his head, "I'll have to explain later," he said, "Just do me a favor, and don't mention that Nancy and I went out, OK?"

Doc shrugged, his confusion still apparent, "Whatever you say, HM."

Murdock nodded in acknowledgement, and turned and headed out to Stockwell's hangar, where he planned to check on flight preparations, and hopefully get a chance to talk to Face before Nancy showed up.

"Hey, Murdock, I wasn't expecting you quite so early," Face said as Murdock walked into the hangar.

"Face, you aren't going to believe this . . .," Murdock started, then stopped abruptly as Jeff Kent, Abel 8, came around a stack of supplies.

"Lieutenant," he said, then nodded in greeting when he caught sight of Murdock, "Listen, I'm going to go pick up these items," he waved a list that Face had obviously provided, "But I've gotta tell you, you're rapidly hitting weight limit. You might want to reconsider the inventory and see if there's anything you can cut out."

"What did you base passenger weight on?" Murdock asked.

"The usual," Jeff said, "five men."

"There'll be an extra passenger this trip," Murdock said, "That's another 70 kilos you're gonna lose, Faceman."

"Who's the passenger?" Jeff asked curiously.

Murdock looked at Jeff, he liked the man instinctively, but like all the Abel Agents, he was cautious around him, "Looks like Abel 5 is going to be joining us," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Murdock caught the suppressed smile, "Really?" Jeff said as he tried to hide his amusement, "Nancy's goin' with you? And what does Colonel Smith think of that?"

"He's less than thrilled," Murdock replied, looking at Jeff curiously, "What's so funny?"

"It's just that Nancy . . . well I don't imagine you really know her," Jeff said with passing curiosity about the odd look that crossed Murdock's face, "But she really hates being treated like she's helpless. I can just see the fireworks the first time one of you tries to . . . you know, protect her."

Face had turned and was listening attentively, "So she's a real live Abel Agent, huh? Not just a victim of affirmative action."

Jeff's smile broadened, "Now, you see, that's the attitude that could get you in trouble," he said quietly, "Just take a little friendly advice – Nancy can take care of herself, and she can get real pissy with anybody that treats her like she can't."

He waved the list, "I should get going. I'll be back with the rest of this stuff in a couple hours."

"Thanks, Jeff," Face said, then looked at Murdock, "Abel 5 is really going with us? What about Abel 12?"

"No, Abel 12 isn't going," Murdock said, looking over his shoulder as Jeff stopped and picked up his jacket before heading towards the hangar door.

"Well, that should make the mission interesting," Face said.

"Yea . . .," Murdock said hesitantly, glancing back as the door finally closed behind Jeff, "Listen Face, I've got a problem . . ."

Face nodded absently, as he started reviewing his list for things he could eliminate, "Only one?"

"Face, I'm serious," Murdock said, following his friend, "I've got a _big_ problem."

"So, what is it," Face asked.

Murdock hesitated, "You know that woman I'm seeing right now . . ."

"Yea . . ."

"Well, she's, um . . ." Murdock took a deep breath, "She's Abel 5."

Face's jaw dropped, as he turned to consider his friend in astonishment, "Abel 5 is . . . you . . . you _slept _with an Abel agent?"

"Well . . . yea, I guess that's one way to look at it," Murdock said quietly, crossing his arms and leaning on the desk.

"Does Hannibal know?" Face asked.

"I tried to tell him, but got interrupted, so no. Hannibal doesn't know . . . yet."

"Whoa, Murdock," Face said, leaning next to him, "That is a serious problem. You don't think she's told the General, do you?"

"No, she didn't tell the General," Murdock said, looking at Face in surprise.

Face raised an eyebrow, "You sure about that?" he asked uncertainly, "After all, she is an Abel Agent."

"You know, Abel Agents work for the General, just like us," Murdock said defensively, "It doesn't mean they're the bad guys."

"Let's get something straight," Face said irritably, "They work for the General voluntarily. Hannibal, BA, Frankie, and I do not."

"And I suppose I do?" Murdock asked angrily.

"At least you can come and go as you please," Face argued, allowing his ongoing irritation at their confinement to show through, "I don't see you bunking at the Compound."

"Typical," Murdock said, standing and pacing, "I've always had it easy while you guys have suffered, haven't I?" he asked resentfully.

"I didn't mean it that way, Murdock . . .," Face said appeasingly.

"Then how did you mean it, Face?" Murdock asked, "None of you know what I go through when you're not around. I'm always the odd one out," he laughed humorlessly, "Kind of appropriate, isn't it?"

"Murdock, c'mon," Face said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you've never been the 'odd man out'. You're part of the team."

Murdock looked at Face ruefully, "Yea, when I'm needed."

Jeff walked out into the parking lot and saw Nancy getting out of the General's limo, "Hey, Nan, car problems?" he asked.

Nancy leaned down at the driver's window, and when she turned and looked at Jeff she wore a distracted smile, "Hi, Jeff," she said, "No – it's just that I got a ride to the Compound with Trix this morning and we ended up going two different directions."

"You shoulda caught a ride with Murdock," Jeff said, "He just came from the Compound."

Jeff was caught off guard by the look that crossed Nancy's face, but by the time it had registered, it was concealed. That made him even more curious about the strange look on Murdock's face – something was up.

Nancy nodded absently, "Yea, well, he took off, and I had to find another ride."

"Are you OK, Nan?" Jeff asked. He couldn't be certain, but he'd swear it looked like she'd been crying, "You seem kinda upset."

"I'm fine," Nancy said tersely, turning towards the hangar.

"Nan," Jeff said, stopping her with a hand on her arm, "What's the deal? Murdock just said you're going to Columbia with the Team. And he seemed real agitated about something. Now you. What's goin' on?"

Nancy looked at Jeff searchingly. Since he had married Mary, she had felt uncomfortable around him. Given their history, she had ultimately decided it was best if she just avoided seeing him outside of work. He was a really nice guy, and she'd always considered him a friend, but she was never too sure how he felt about her.

"It's just that this whole mess with Palumbo has me a little on edge," she said with forced levity, "The General isn't real happy with me right now, and the Team isn't thrilled about me crashing their party. Guess I'm just feeling a little under siege at the moment," she smiled thinly at him, "I'll be fine, really. Thanks for asking."

She turned and walked swiftly towards the hangar. Jeff watched after her curiously. Her behavior was strange, even for Nancy. He'd known her long enough to know when she was covering – she hadn't outright lied to him, but it was hardly the whole truth. Something was bothering her, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the A-Team pilot. That, in and of itself, was enough to peak his curiosity.

Uneasy Truce 

Face was wishing he could take back what he'd said to Murdock, when the hangar door opened again, and Nancy came walking in. She strode purposely over to the bench, shaking off her suit jacket and dropping it over a chair.

She turned to Murdock and Face, rolling up her sleeves, "So, you ready to 'put me through my paces', Captain?" she asked, looking at Murdock defiantly. Overt anger always helped bury other emotions, and over time Nancy had become very practiced at it.

Murdock was caught short as her blue eyes flashed at him. He sighed, he wasn't up to an entire afternoon of fighting with her, "Just cool it," he said wearily, "I'll be ready to go soon," he glanced at Face, who was looking at Nancy with blatant curiosity, and motioned to him, "This is Face, Face, this is Nancy Clay."

Nancy murmured a perfunctory 'nice to meet you' and held out a hand, but Face was busy conducting his own personal inventory of her. The first thing he noticed was her eyes, which were wide-set, large, and a remarkable shade of sky blue. But other than that, he thought her looks were perhaps slightly above average. For one thing she was quite short, he estimated probably only about 5'3", maybe 5'4". Her auburn hair looked like it had undergone several do-it-yourself trims, and could use a professional cut and some styling. She wore no makeup and her clothing was standard Abel attire, which did nothing to even hint at a figure. All in all, she was definitely not a woman Face would have even given a second look.

Nancy finally allowed her hand to drop and raised an eyebrow at Murdock, "He's pretty, but does he speak?" she asked sarcastically.

Murdock couldn't help smiling, but suppressed it quickly as Face's eyes narrowed, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, too, but I'd be lying," Face responded petulantly.

"Let's see, is that because I called you a 'pretty boy'?" she asked drolly, a slight smile tugging at her lips, "Or because I work for Stockwell?"

"Or could it be both?" Face said, "In my experience, when someone looks like the enemy, dresses like the enemy, sleeps with the enemy, they usually are the _enemy_," he looked at Murdock significantly.

Nancy's gaze turned stone cold, "You really know how to win a lady over, don't you Lieutenant," she said.

"I don't see any ladies here," Face said scathingly, "I only see one of Stockwell's minions."

Nancy crossed her arms, "You know, you're a real friendly lot. Wonder the General hasn't fitted you with chains and muzzles," she glanced at Murdock, adding shortly, "I'll be waiting outside."

Face turned to Murdock as the door closed behind her, "OK, you're going to have to explain to me exactly what it is you see in her, because I ain't seein' it buddy."

"You weren't exactly friendly, Face," Murdock pointed out.

"She's one of _them_," Face said dismissively, missing the troubled look that crossed Murdock's face, "What do you expect?"

Murdock sighed, he had hoped maybe at least Face would see what he did when he looked at Nancy. Now he was beginning to doubt whether the weekend had even been real, "I gotta go, Face," he said shortly.

"You gotta end it, Murdock," Face said earnestly, looking at his friend worriedly, "This just can't have a happy ending. You must realize that."

Murdock nodded, "Yea, I guess . . ."

"We can talk later, OK?" Face said solicitously.

Murdock turned to follow Nancy out, "OK, we'll talk later," he agreed, though he honestly wasn't sure he saw the point. Face had made it pretty clear where he stood. Murdock just wasn't so sure it was going to be that easy to walk away.

Nancy was standing facing a row of choppers, her arms crossed, and her expression cross, "So, do any of your friends get to know a person _before _they judge them?

"You weren't exactly pleasant to start with, were you?" Murdock started irritably, then sighed, "Listen, Face isn't usually that rude. To be honest, I can't say I know about your routine behavior. Both of you were pretty brutal in there."

Nancy pursed her lips, "I guess I wasn't very nice," she admitted, "I tend to engage my mouth before my brain when I'm feeling outnumbered."

"Hasn't been the easiest morning, has it?" he asked gently

Nancy was caught off guard, "It started out pretty good," she said self-consciously.

"Yea it did," he agreed, glancing at her sideways, "How about we just try and get through the afternoon without any more arguments. Deal?"

Nancy looked at him ruefully, "Deal."

At the chopper, Murdock put her through a quick orientation as they went through the pre-flight then sat back, "Let's take her up."

Once up in the air, Murdock had her head towards a nearby open field, "We're gonna go through some landing exercises," he said, "You'll likely co-pilot for me, and if anything goes wrong, I wanna make sure you can handle this little lady," he grinned, as his spirits lifted with their altitude, "A little lady handling a little lady – sounds kinky."

"Crude, Captain," Nancy said, shaking her head, but smiling just the same.

He pointed to a small patch of dead grass in the middle of the field, "I want you to set down right there."

Nancy pulled up and set down easily, looking at Murdock, "That was tough," she said sarcastically.

"Take her up to 100 feet."

Nancy lifted off, hovering at 100 feet, "OK, now what?"

"Take her down slow, and pay attention," he said briskly.

Nancy started her decent, "Slower," Murdock said sharply.

She gritted her teeth and slowed her decent.

"10 degrees starboard," he said and as Nancy overcorrected, he said, "I said _pay attention_ – 10 degrees, not 20."

She pulled back and continued her decent, "15 degrees port."

She turned, this time closer, though she still had to correct.

"Better, now 30 degrees starboard, and drop."

Nancy did as directed, dropping at slightly over 30 degrees.

"What was that all about?"

"You gotta get the feel for the chopper," Murdock said, "You gotta learn what 10 degrees, 5 degrees feels like – it's important when dropping through a canopy. And you gotta slow your decent."

He took Nancy through a dozen more similar exercises. Then he had her fly up towards the mountains, showing her how to maneuver to keep it out of the trees, but low enough that they were off radar.

They pulled up above a small meadow clearing, and Murdock looked at her, "This is more open than the one we'll be using in Columbia, but it's a good place to start," he said, "Take her down _slow_, and _pay attention_."

He directed her through the canopy without incident, and Nancy turned and grinned at him, "That wasn't so hard!"

"Yea, but that was like parkin' your VW bug in a Mack truck space. You need to get to where you can do just the opposite."

"Take her back up," he said.

They moved higher up in the mountains, and Murdock pointed, "There's a good one."

Nancy looked at him, "You gotta be kidding me."

He looked at her and grinned, "Trust me?"

Nancy considered the hole in the canopy, then looked at Murdock with a grimace, "Do I have any choice?"

He shook his head, "Nope. Remember, slow decent and pay attention."

As they lowered through the canopy, Nancy could hear the rotors flicking through the branches. Her knuckles were white on the stick, as she carefully followed Murdock's direction. When she felt the skids touch down, she let out a pent up breath.

"Good job," Murdock said admiringly, "You got the makings of one heck of a slick pilot."

Nancy turned and looked at him, a wide grin on her face, "Thanks!"

Then she looked down at the fuel gage, "Uh-oh – fuel's getting low."

Murdock leaned over and tapped the gage, "No problem – plenty to get home. Let's try one more clearing."

After the next landing, they headed back to the air field. Murdock looked at her sideways. She was concentrating, a definite indication that she wasn't nearly as comfortably in the chopper as she was in her Taylorcraft. But he was impressed, she had made quick progress this afternoon.

"So, Captain, do I pass the test?" Nancy asked.

"I give ya an A minus."

"Why the minus?" she asked.

"It's a matter of principal," he said with a sideways smile.

The airfield came into sight on the horizon, just as the engine sputtered. Murdock leaned over and tapped the gage again, "We'll make it."

Nancy looked at him with raised eyebrows, "You're walkin' for the gas if we run out."

"No," he disagreed good-naturedly, as the engine sputtered again, "You're the subordinate pilot – that means you get to hike for the go juice."

"But you're the idiot that said 'we've got plenty to get home'," she reminded him.

"Even ace pilots make slight miscalculations once in a while," he said grimacing as the engine sputtered again.

"Should I set down here?" she asked nervously.

"Let me take her," he said, taking the controls and banking.

"Where are you going?" Nancy asked skeptically.

"Just adjusting course slightly so we can take better advantage of the tailwind," he said.

They made it back to the field and Murdock set down, just before the engine died altogether.

Murdock looked at her triumphantly, "Told you we had enough to get home."

Nancy slid the headset off, "Admit it, you were worried."

"Not for a second," Murdock said, setting his headphones down and turning to her, "You did great this afternoon."

Nancy looked at him searchingly, then smiled slightly, "Thanks – I had a good instructor," she looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Even if he can't calculate a fuel allowance."

He grinned at her, "Who calculated anything?"

"Obviously, not you," she replied, returning the grin.

They started through the post-flight check. The afternoon had passed without any more angry words, but then they both had trouble being in a bad mood when they were flying. They seemed to have reached an uneasy, unspoken truce, at least for the moment.

Hannibal walked up as they were working through the post-flight check, "How did it go?" Hannibal asked, glancing across Murdock to where Nancy sat with a clipboard in her lap.

"Good, Colonel," Murdock said, "Nancy's a natural in a chopper."

"Hardly natural," Nancy disagreed, "But definitely a lot more comfortable now, with some instruction and practice."

"Good," Hannibal said, "Are you about done here?"

Nancy glanced down at the clipboard, the post flight was just about done, "I can finish this up if you need to go with Colonel Smith," she said, looking at Murdock.

Murdock looked at Hannibal, who smiled, "I appreciate that, Abel 5 . . ."

"Nancy," she corrected.

". . . Nancy. But I actually need to see both of you," Hannibal said, "I'll see you in the hangar in 10 minutes?"

"10 minutes, Colonel," Murdock acknowledged.

Front Door Opening 

When they entered the hangar 10 minutes later, Hannibal, Face, BA, Frankie, and Trixie were standing around a large folding table that had a map of the region of Columbia where Palumbo's hacienda was, with several marks on it showing the hacienda, the location of the poppy fields, the nearest airfield, and Murdock's LZ, among others. There was also one of the aerials that Trixie had shot of the hacienda using night-vision lenses on the camera. They had managed to get close enough to be able to get some detail on the gun turrets and the inner courtyard. There was also another small aerial and a few scattered pages of notes.

Hannibal glanced up as Nancy and Murdock joined the group gathered around the table, "I thought it might be easier to get all of us in one place. Trixie and I spent the last few hours pulling all the pertinent information that she could recall together and mapping it out," he indicated the items on the table.

Murdock was scanning the small aerial, "Is this a new one, Hannibal?"

Hannibal nodded, "The General gave me this one this afternoon. It doesn't cover as much area as I would have liked, but beggars can't be choosers."

Trixie pointed to the hacienda, "They've reinforced the perimeter since we were down there," she said, "That incursion by Perez must have struck a nerve."

"That's what I was afraid of," Hannibal said, "It's gonna make it difficult to get Nolan and Littleford out."

Nancy was looking at the helipad, "Palumbo has a couple choppers that make runs in and out of the hacienda," she said thoughtfully, "That has to be continuing, it's the only reliable way to get supplies."

Hannibal looked at her questioningly, "Yea?"

"If we could get one of his supply choppers, and fly in as if we belonged . . ." she said with a shrug.

Hannibal grinned around his cigar, "The front door _is_ the best way to go!"

"Great, the front door," BA said humorlessly, "But first we gotta find the chopper on the outside . . ."

"That might be easier than it sounds," Nancy said, her eyes sparking with mounting enthusiasm, "Palumbo uses a complex supply network, with rotating schedules, but there's one that he uses routinely at least once a week."

Trixie snapped her fingers, "Sure," she said excitedly, "He never goes more than a week for his tobacco."

Nancy smiled, "Yep, in the rainforest, even a humidor can't keep it fresh for more than a week."

"We just need to lean on the supplier," Murdock said.

"Still need to coordinate the attack," Face said, "And it's gonna be a small window if we go with Palumbo's chopper."

"Also," Trixie said, sobering, "Those choppers don't hold much."

"Four passengers at most," Nancy said, "It'll take two choppers to get all of us out of there."

Hannibal chewed on his cigar, looking at the photos thoughtfully, "How long do you think we'd have before Palumbo realized that the incoming chopper was unfriendly?"

"You could get within visual," Nancy said, her gaze thoughtful, "There's another problem, the helipad has two armed guards at all times."

Hannibal pulled the large overhead photo of the hacienda forward, "Where is Littleford likely to be held?" he looked at Nancy expectantly.

She stepped forward and looked at the aerial, "Likely in the holding cells, here," she said, pointing unhesitatingly at the northwest quadrant of the inner courtyard.

"How long would it take to get from there to the helipad?"

"On the run, you could probably make it in two or three minutes," Nancy said, her look thoughtful, "But with a wounded man, could take as much as ten."

"You said Nolan was managing the growing operation," Hannibal said, looking at Trixie, "and reports in once a day by chopper – so that's another option."

Nancy looked at Trixie uneasily, and Hannibal looked at them narrowly, "Am I missing something?"

Trixie considered her partner seriously, "Tell Hannibal your suspicion, Nan, he'll listen . . ."

"It's unlikely . . ." Nancy said uncertainly.

Nancy looked very uncomfortable, and Hannibal looked from her to Trixie and back, finally prompting, "I don't care how unlikely it is, I want to hear all possible scenarios. We need to go in with all facts, theories and WASPs."

"WASPs?" Nancy asked.

Hannibal grinned, "Wild Ass Suspected Problems."

Nancy relaxed visibly, "Well, I have a feeling that Nolan isn't exactly the loyal DEA agent that his superiors think he is."

"Well, now, that could complicate things," Frankie said with a low whistle.

Trixie looked at Nancy, "I think that's more than a WASP at this point," she said, "I think Nolan is the reason Palumbo found out about Littleford. And I doubt if he stopped there."

Hannibal stood, "I need to go see the General about this little revelation," he said seriously, "I want you all to head home and hit the hay. We reconvene tomorrow morning at 0900."

"Woo-hoo, 0900," Face said, grinning, "We get to sleep in!"

"Enjoy it, Lieutenant," Hannibal said, "It's likely the last good night's sleep any of us will get for awhile."

Face groaned and Hannibal laughed, "Alright, that's it. See you in the morning."

As the group broke up, Hannibal started towards the door, only to be stopped by a very agitated Nancy, "The General will not be happy to know I told you about my suspicions, Hannibal," she said, "He warned me to keep my 'feelings' to myself from now on."

"I'll broach it as my own theory, if it makes you feel better" Hannibal said, "Personally I think you're probably right. It fits with recent events. Certainly explains how a seasoned DEA Agent gets made in deep undercover."

"Well, the DEA thought I was just trying to cover up my own screw-up," Nancy said bitterly, "And the General seemed inclined to agree with them."

"Did you screw up?" Hannibal asked directly.

"Maybe," she admitted, after a moment of serious consideration, "But I don't make frivolous accusations, and even if I screwed up, there was something more going on there. Something wasn't right," her foot was tapping incessantly while she spoke.

Hannibal put a hand on her shoulder, "Nancy, head home and get some rest," he said kindly, "I'll see what I can ferret out about Nolan."

Ending 'It' 

He turned and walked away, as Trixie came up to stand beside her, "So," Nancy said, "You obviously won the reticent Colonel Smith over. He was treating me much less like an enemy this afternoon."

Trixie smiled, "Yea, well, that and I told him that you and the General were certainly anything but bosom buddies – shared enemies make very uneasy alliances, though, so if I were you I'd still watch my step," she turned and looked at Nancy curiously, "So, what about you and HM?"

"There is no 'HM and me'" she said, crossing her arms and glancing back towards where Murdock was standing talking with Face, "It's clear that the Team comes first. I think that leaves me pretty much nowhere."

Trixie looked at her friend discerningly, "You need to give it some time, Nan. I think you both need to come to grips with the new playing field before you make any final decisions."

"Yea, I guess," Nancy said noncommittally.

Trixie sighed heavily, deciding that now wasn't the time to push it, "Do you need a ride home?" she asked.

"No," she said, "I'm gonna take a company car home. But I do have a favor to ask," Nancy looked at Trixie hopefully.

"What?" Trixie asked, suspiciously.

"You don't need to look so worried," Nancy said, a tired grin crossing her face, "I made an appointment with the garage for the bug. If Joe dropped you off in the morning, you could follow me to the garage, so I could leave the car."

"OK, I'll see you around 8 in the morning and we'll take care of it," Trixie said, "Are you ready to head out?"

"Yea," Nancy said.

Outside, headed towards the main hangar, Nancy realized she didn't have her jacket, "Listen, Trix, you go on, I gotta go back and get my jacket," she said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Face looked at Murdock, "So, what are you gonna do about Abel 5?"

"Her name is Nancy," Murdock said irritably, "and to tell the truth, I really don't know," he looked at Face questioningly, "How do you think the General would react?"

"Not good, Murdock, _not good_," Face said, "I don't really understand the big deal, anyway, she doesn't even seem your type. Just end it and be done with it."

Murdock looked at Face indecisively, then nodded hesitantly, "Yea . . . yea, you're probably right," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself, "I'll talk to her as soon as I get a chance."

"The sooner the better," Face said, "Trust me, you'll be relieved once it's over."

Face took one last look through his supplies inventory, then ripped it off, "I think that's it, Murdock," he said, handing him the inventory, "I've run the numbers twice – we should be good on weight."

Murdock took the list, and picked up his clipboard with the flight planning forms on it. He glanced up as Nancy walked back into the hangar and watched as she walked over and picked up her jacket, then turned to head back out.

Murdock shoved the inventory list onto the clipboard, "Thanks, Face," he said absently, dropping the clipboard on the table and turning to follow Nancy, "Hey, Nan, wait up."

He loped to where Nancy was standing, waiting with the hangar door held open.

"Nan, I think we should talk . . ." Murdock started, as they passed through the door and it closed behind them.

"So, talk" Nancy said impatiently, walking rapidly towards the main hangar. She really didn't feel like talking, especially with Murdock.

"Well, I was thinking that we're gonna be stuck together for the next week or two," he said hesitantly, "and I don't want things to be, you know, awkward."

"Awkward?" Nancy said disbelievingly, rounding on him, "You don't want things to be _awkward_? Well, I'd say it's a little late for that, _Captain_ . . . like maybe two or three days."

"Okay . . .," Murdock said, "I guess sarcasm is one way to deal with anger . . .,"

Nancy crossed her arms, deciding that ending it was the only option, "Listen, you want it to be over, fine, it's over."

"Nan, it's not that I _want_ it to be over . . ." Murdock reasoned.

She sighed, "Listen, Murdock, I understand the problems that my . . . position is making for you. It's OK," she smiled at him half-heartedly, "I'll live, you'll live, and between us we only lost a few days on a relationship that couldn't go anywhere."

"If things were different . . ." Murdock said lamely, then ended earnestly, "It's just that we have so much to lose."

"Yea, I know," Nancy said, "Trust me, nobody knows better than me what an ass the General can be," she shrugged and crossed her arms, "It's OK, really."

Murdock looked at her dejectedly, trying to think of something to say, that would make everything alright. Unfortunately, he was drawing a total blank.

Nancy took a step backwards toward the main hangar, "I should get going," she said uncomfortably, "I'll see you tomorrow, HM," she turned and hurried away.

Murdock watched until she disappeared inside the main hangar, then turned and walked slowly back to Stockwell's hangar. He walked over and sat down at the table, pulling the clipboard over and looking at it unseeingly. Face was wrong, he didn't feel relieved, he felt miserable.

Nancy walked into the main hangar and up to the desk, waiting as Doc finished with another customer. She smiled thinly as she moved forward, "Hey, Doc, I need a company car."

Doc took a set of keys out of the lock box, along with the sign out sheet, "Here you go, Nan," he said as he pushed them across the desk to her, "So, what's goin' on?"

Nancy glanced up at him, then leaned over and started filling out the sign out sheet, "Not much, Doc," she said vaguely.

"Really," Doc said, looking disappointed, "I really thought you and HM had hit it off the other night."

Nancy looked up at him sharply, "Well, I guess you were wrong, Doc," she took a deep breath, to steady herself, as she shoved the sign out sheet back over to him, "Listen, I'll probably see you tomorrow," she said.

His expression was apologetic, "I'm sorry about that, Nan. I knew HM and the General didn't get along real well, but he always seemed pretty friendly with the other Abel Agents. I didn't realize it would be such a big deal."

Nancy licked her lips, and glanced towards the door. She really wasn't prepared to deal with Doc's guilty conscience right now, "It's OK, Doc," she said, quietly, "I . . . uh, really gotta get going," she said tightly as she turned and walked out of the hangar.

Doc sighed as she disappeared out the door, thinking he'd really miscalculated that one.

Not so Happy Reflections 

Trixie walked in at home and Joe came out of the kitchen, "You're earlier than I thought you would be," he said, looking happy to see her all the same.

Trixie dropped her jacket on a hook by the door, and walked over and gave Joe a hug and a lingering kiss, "Have I mentioned how happy I am that I found you?"

"Actually, I found you," he said with a smile, "But with a greeting like that, I don't really care what story you tell."

Trixie sighed and after one last kiss, slipped by him and dropped into the couch, "You wouldn't believe the day I've had," she said, sitting back and kicking off her shoes, "And I had it easy compared to Nan."

Joe sat down next to her, "What happened?" he asked, putting an arm around her.

Trixie slid into his arms, "You remember HM telling us that he used to fly for the special forces?" Joe nodded, and she continued, "Well, he didn't fly for just any unit, he flew for the A-Team."

Joe looked at her in surprise, "You mean . . ."

Trixie nodded, "Yea, he was there today . . ." she said, and proceeded to relate the basic occurrences of the day.

"Man, that's the pits," Joe said when she was finished, "I really thought maybe Nan had finally found her match. First time I ever remember her let somebody in like that."

"Yea," Trixie agreed, "I think she really fell for the guy."

Nancy shut the door and locked it, kicking her shoes off and hanging the car keys up on the peg board. She went up to her room and changed out of her uniform and into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt, then headed back down to the kitchen to find something for supper.

As she wandered around the kitchen, looking idly for anything that sounded even remotely good, her eyes landed on the daisies that Murdock had brought her Saturday. They needed water, so she took the vase over to the sink and added water to it, then took a couple of wilted flowers out. She noticed that the flowers that had wilted all had shorter stems, and so had been dry for awhile, and smiled to herself. Murdock had obviously not been very careful when picking them at the park, and she smiled as she pictured him pulling a fistful of daisies in a rush, looking around nervously like a little boy afraid to be caught doing something bad and hoping no one had seen him.

She walked back over to the table and set the vase back in the center. She sat down, then reached up and plucked out a couple of strands of stray grass that Murdock had pulled with the daisies, then dropped her chin in her hand. She'd had some bad days, but today ranked right up there with the worst. She'd really thought she'd found someone special. She shook her head, she had found someone special, Murdock was a great guy.

This entire situation was just adding justification to her thoughts of leaving Stockwell Enterprises. She hadn't been happy with the way things were going for awhile now. She was tired of having her life dictated by her job. Trixie's decision to marry Joe had catalyzed the beginning of the end of her life as she'd known it for the last 8 years. Trixie would soon be living a normal life, and there were times when she really thought that she should join her.

In fact, she'd thought, when she'd met Murdock, that it was a sign that she really should follow Trixie's lead. He had seemed like a nice, average guy; the kind of guy that she could settle down with.

Now it seemed he was more of an omen than a sign, a nice guy, but not nearly as average as he appeared. Kind of reminiscent of her life – looked average to the world, but the truth was totally unexpected. She sighed, what really bothered her was that even now, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Average or not, she cared more about Murdock than she wanted to admit. And that scared her.

The easy way out was to forget it, just like he'd said this afternoon. It was over, and she should accept it and get on with her life. A life where the General would find her another partner, and she could remain an Abel Agent. At least that way, she didn't have to think about what she wanted – she could just let the job continue to dictate.

She stood up, picked up the flowers, vase and all, walked over to the empty trash can, and dropped them in. The vase landed upright, remaining intact. The daisies looked rather comical, if a little sad, sticking out of the top of the trash can, as Nancy turned and strode out of the kitchen, dinner forgotten.

Murdock walked into the Compound at about 10:30 that evening, having finished the preliminary loading planning, just to keep from dwelling on Nancy.

Hannibal came walking out of the kitchen with a plate full of food, silverware, and a glass of milk, and set them down on the table, "Saved some for ya," he said, "The others have already gone to bed. You're making a late night of it."

Murdock sat down, and picked up the fork, picking through the spaghetti and sausage unenthusiastically, "Thanks, Hannibal."

Hannibal sat down across from him. Murdock not plowing into a late supper was really peaking his concern about his pilot, "We never did get a chance to talk about what's been bothering you . . .," he said, looking at Murdock worriedly.

Murdock pushed his plate away, then picked up his milk and drained the glass, which helped to settle his empty stomach. He looked up at Hannibal, and motioned to the door.

Hannibal followed without asking any questions. Murdock strode across the back deck, and out into the yard. He didn't stop until he was by the tree line, well away from the house. He turned to face his commanding officer, "Hannibal, you wanted to know why I've been acting so weird today . . ."

Hannibal waited expectantly, and Murdock continued, "Well, it does have to do with the woman I've been seeing . . .," he hesitated.

Hannibal nodded, "She found out about your time at the VA . . .," he said, voicing the suspicions he'd developed after talking with Face earlier this evening.

Murdock shook his head impatiently, "No, Hannibal, it's nothing like that. You see, Nancy has known about my time at the VA since the first night we met."

Hannibal's head snapped up at the mention of her name, "Nancy . . . ?"

Murdock nodded, "Yes, Nancy Clay, Abel 5, is the woman I spent last weekend with."

Hannibal turned and pulled out a cigar and lit it, puffing thoughtfully, "Well, that clears up several things," he said thoughtfully.

"Face already told you, didn't he?" Murdock asked.

"Well, he mentioned that you were having problems with the woman you were seeing, but he didn't say who she was," Hannibal admitted. He turned and looked at Murdock, "Did she tell the General?"

"Like I told Face earlier, she _didn't_ tell the General," Murdock said impatiently, "She doesn't want him to know anymore than I do. I get the impression she has her own issues with him."

"I'll have to agree with you there, especially after the discussion I had with Stockwell this afternoon."

"You mean regarding Nolan as a turncoat?" Murdock asked.

"Yea," Hannibal said, "He was less than enthusiastic about 'my' theory. Then he asked directly if I'd talked to Abel 5 about it. I told him that we had discussed several things, and that she might have mentioned that she didn't trust Nolan."

Hannibal paused, honestly, he'd felt almost sorry for Abel 5 at the time, "He said that she had broached a similar theory in front of the DEA, when they had their first debriefing. Apparently the DEA was very polite in front of her, but after she'd left, they told the General that he should learn to control his agents better, and that if they were going to offer wild accusations about a trusted DEA field agent just to cover up their own errors, then they were going to rethink their long-term relationship with Stockwell Enterprises," he chuckled, envisioning the General after that little lecture, "Of course Stockwell had to backpedal pretty quick to keep the company out of trouble. And I doubt he was too easy on Abel 5 when all was said and done, either."

"Which is why she was so reluctant to say anything," Murdock said in understanding, "I take it the General sided with the DEA over her."

The end of Hannibal's cigar brightened briefly, before he responded, "Well, as you might expect, the General sided with the money. He couldn't have a field agent, not matter how valid their accusations, mucking up a lucrative, long-term contract."

"Did he believe her?"

"That I'm not sure about," Hannibal said, "I believe her, though. And I think she's right on the money. We go in treating Nolan as the enemy. I told the General I'd bring him back, but he's coming in leg irons, 'cause I'm not taking any chances."

They were both quiet for a minute, then Hannibal spoke, "So, Abel 5 is the woman makin' you think of settling down," he said, his tone amused.

"Yea, I guess that might be kinda hard to understand," Murdock said as he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a tree, smiling thoughtfully as he considered the humor of the situation.

"Actually, I don't find it hard to understand, at all," Hannibal said.

Murdock looked at Hannibal in surprise, "Really? Face thinks I'm nuts wanting to be with her. He says I should just end it . . ."

"Is that what you want?

Murdock was silent for a moment, before responding simply, "No."

Hannibal nodded acknowledgment, then grinned as he asked, "So, does that mean you're still hearing wedding bells?"

"Not sure if they're wedding bells or alarm bells, now," Murdock responded with a chuckle, then his look sobered, "I _really_ care about her, Colonel – we really connected this weekend. I hate to let that go."

Hannibal considered that thoughtfully, "You talked to her about what's going on with the General . . ."

"Not in any kind of detail, but I think she has a basic understanding of the issues, she works for the guy after all," he said, after a moment, he added, "I talked to her about us . . . our relationship," he paused again, ending hollowly, "I told her that it was over. That there was just too much at stake for me to chance it."

Hannibal could hear the regret in Murdock's voice, "It's a nice gesture, Murdock, but I think we've all sacrificed enough for those damn pardons," he said firmly, "We'll have to work out the particulars when we get back – until then it's probably best if you two keep it under wraps. Besides, we all need to be sharp down in Columbia – you and Nancy included."

Murdock relaxed visibly, "Thanks, Hannibal," he said sincerely, "I just wasn't having much luck playing like Face suggested."

"Yea, well, Face was probably being a little self-serving with his suggestions," Hannibal said, "He and Nancy are going to have to learn to get along - soon."

"Good luck with that, Colonel," Murdock said wearily, as he stood up, "Listen, I'm gonna hit the hay. It's been a long day. I'll see you in the morning."

He turned and walked slowly across the yard and up onto the deck. Hannibal watched as he disappeared into the house. Left outside with just his thoughts and his cigar, Hannibal considered their current situation.

He took a long, thoughtful drag on his cigar, the tip glowing brightly, and his thoughts wandering as crazily as the smoke that curled out of his nostrils, only to be whipped away by the light evening breeze. This past year had been a huge adjustment for all of them, and just when he thought things were calming down, something happened to churn the waters again.

BA missed his mother, and at first had really balked at the restraints put on their movements. Eventually, though, he had resigned himself to getting through the missions and getting his pardon, his focus turning to the long-term advantages of being a truly free man.

Frankie's motivation was simple, he just wanted to get the whole mess over with, and get back to LA and his career. Having not been on the run for the past 10 years, he wasn't as pessimistic as the rest of them tended to be.

Face had presented his biggest challenge, unaccustomed as he was to having his movements limited, particularly to an area as quiet and staid as Langley. Face had continually looked for a quick fix to their current situation, partially out of distrust for Stockwell, which they all felt to some degree, and partly out of a long-standing discontent with his life.

He had to admit to himself that beyond worrying a bit about Murdock being out on his own, away from the VA, he hadn't really given his pilot much thought, once they'd passed the initial move. For all intents and purposed, Murdock appeared to be settling in without any problems. He had found his attention focused on Face. Face, who had considered leaving the team to get away from Stockwell, and the claustrophobia he felt being confined to the Compound.

He took a deep breath; he had underestimated Murdock's problems with the adjustment. After 10 years living in the VA, in a very controlled environment, he'd been thrown into the general population and left to fend for himself, cut off at times, even from his friends. He wondered what had happened with that other woman, Erica, that Murdock had been seeing, and realized with a guilty jolt that he hadn't heard Murdock mention her for awhile now. The only time they really saw each other was when they were headed out for mission, and generally, at those times, Hannibal's focus was on the task ahead. Obviously, it had been awhile since he had sat down and really talked to Murdock.

Fireworks 

Nancy woke up in the morning and rolled over. When her eyes focused on the clock she sat up suddenly, muttering 'shit'. It was ten minutes until eight and she hadn't even gotten a shower yet.

Trixie and Joe were pulling up outside her townhouse at about the same time. Trixie rang the doorbell and when Nancy didn't come to answer, she pulled out her keys and opened the door.

She walked straight over to the bottom of the stairs, "Nancy, are you awake?"

"Yea, just running late," Nancy called down, "I'll be a few minutes, still gotta get a shower."

Trixie turned and looked at her husband, shaking her head, "You want some coffee?"

"Sounds good to me," Joe said, smiling.

They walked into the kitchen and Trixie pulled the coffee maker out. She turned to empty the old grounds into the trash and stopped short. She set the coffee filter aside and pulled the vase and flowers out, looking at them quizzically.

"Looks like Nan didn't want them anymore," Joe said.

"Yea, one guess why," Trixie said, walking to the sink and adding water to the vase, "These are the flowers HM got her on their first date . . . make that their only _real_ date."

Trixie set the vase down on the table, then returned to making coffee, "She's got it bad, Joe," she said, pouring water into the reservoir.

"It'll work out," Joe said certainly, "They just gotta get through this little road block."

Trixie flipped the coffee maker on, and the smell of rich coffee quickly filled the room, "I am soooo glad I'm out of the dating scene."

"Coulda been outta it a lot sooner if you hadn't been so damn stubborn," Joe said, grinning at her.

"You know you love a challenge," Trixie replied teasingly.

Joe moved in for a grope, "Yea, I do," he said, then a look of dawning understanding crossed his face, "Maybe HM does, too," he suggested.

Trixie put her arms around his neck, "Let's hope so," she said, before reaching up for a kiss.

Nancy walked in a few minute later, her hair dripping wet, in a pair of jeans and a yellow button-down, "Alright, enough of that shit," she said to the involved couple in mock irritation, "This is a G-rated kitchen."

Joe gave his wife one last blatant pinch on the butt, before releasing her. Nancy had stopped by the table, and was gazing at the flowers, "So, who retrieved the daisies from the trash?"

"Guilty," Trixie said, turning to hand her husband a cup of coffee, "And if you think you can toss out your feelings for HM, like you tossed those flowers, you're sorely mistaken."

"Obviously, seeing as how the flowers seem to have become un-tossed," Nancy said resignedly, "Is the coffee ready yet?"

"Yea," Trixie said, "So, what's the game plan with HM?"

"There is no game plan, Trix," Nancy said, "He said he couldn't risk it, and I honestly don't blame him. You know how the General can be when he gets a bug up his butt."

"So you're just gonna give up, just like that?" Trixie asked disbelievingly.

"Just like that," Nancy said, slipping by the couple and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Boy, he must really have you on the hook," Joe broke in, then looked at his wife smugly, "Told you he broke through in record time - has her running scared from herself already."

"Excuse me?" Nancy said, eyebrows raised.

"You can't stand the thought of letting somebody, _a man_, get close enough to really get to know you," Joe said, "And I think what really scares the shit out of you is that it didn't take HM long to get your number."

"That's ridiculous," Nancy said dismissively.

Trixie looked at Nancy discerningly, then turned to her husband with a smile, "That was a very astute analysis, my dear," she said in admiration, "I believe you have hit on the crux of the issue."

"If you two are done with your psychoanalysis," Nancy said impatiently, "We should probably head out and get the bug to the garage."

Trixie and Joe looked at each other and said in unison, "Classic avoidance tactic."

Nancy 'harumphed' in disgust and walked out of the kitchen. Joe and Trixie grinned at each other knowingly as they followed her.

Murdock was the first one awake, and headed straight to the kitchen to start coffee. When it was ready, he poured himself a cup and sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. When he was done with that, he decided it was time to make some breakfast. He was in need of some good comfort food, and figured that pancakes and sausage would work nicely. The rest of the team tumbled out as the smell of the coffee and food worked its way through the house.

Nancy grabbed the keys for her Volkswagen and the sedan off the peg board as she walked briskly out the front door and headed towards the drive, where the two cars were parked nose to nose.

Joe locked the door behind himself, then caught up with Trixie in the lawn, "Hey, beautiful, I'm gonna head into work."

As they said goodbye, Nancy turned at the drive, and sighed, "Alright, the lawn, like the kitchen, is G-rated . . ."

They exchanged one last kiss, and Trixie turned and headed towards Nancy, as Joe walked to the street, where the SUV was parked.

Trixie walked up to Nancy and wrinkled her nose, "You're just jealous," she said.

"Maybe a little," Nancy admitted, then held out the two sets of keys, "Do you want the Stockwell-mobile or the bug?"

Trixie grabbed the sedan keys, "No offense, but I'll take the sedan," she said, turning and heading for the driver's side door of the sedan as Nancy headed for the bug. Trixie unlocked the sedan and pulled the door open, and that's when the blast happened.

Joe, who had just been pulling away from the curb, was blinded by the explosion, which rocked the SUV on its wheels. He slammed it into park and jumped out. He could see Nancy lying prone in the lawn about eight feet from where she had been a moment before, getting into the Volkswagen. Trixie had been blown back about 6 feet into a privet hedge that ran between Nancy's yard and the adjacent property. Neither of them was moving. The front end of the sedan was engulfed in flames and there was broken safety glass and metal shards from the sedan littering the entire area.

Nancy's neighbor, Dan Landry, an EMT, came running out in his robe, and yelled at his wife to bring his kit. Joe ducked into the SUV and got on the radio, "Martin to dispatch. Code 996 at 2320 Vine. Two victims down, need fire and paramedics. Repeat code 996 at 2320 Vine. Two victims down, need fire and paramedics. Martin Code 6A."

Joe didn't wait for the reply, "Fire and paramedics dispatched, squad en route."

He hurried over to where his wife was lying slouched against the privet hedge. Some other good Samaritans had brought fire extinguishers to bear on the flaming sedan, and were working on getting the fire out. Dan was knelt by Nancy, who seemed to have come around, and was waving him away. Dan's wife Nel, came to sit with Nancy, while Dan hurried over to join Joe. It appeared Trixie had gotten the worst of the blast, whether due to proximity, or limited egress was uncertain, but the hedge had definitely done more harm then good, holding her in where she took the brunt of the shock from the explosion.

By now, the sirens could be heard approaching, the first on scene was a black and white, and Joe stood from where Dan was examining Trixie, and shouted to the first officer to set up a perimeter and get the gathering crowds pushed back to make room for the fire and ambulance.


	2. Part II

An Able Beginning with a Relative Twist – Part II

Thanks for the reviews – keep 'em coming. I really appreciate any constructive criticism. I made a pretty big change to this section just recently, so I hope it holds together OK. If you notice any inconsistencies, let me know and I'll try to correct!

Breaking News 

Hannibal had flipped on the news while they were eating. Langley was generally a fairly quiet town, but today there was a special report on and it caught Hannibal's eye, so he reached over and turned up the volume, just as Murdock was walking out of the kitchen with the last batch of pancakes.

". . . like a war zone, down here, Kelly. There's broken glass and metal debris everywhere. There were two victims caught in the blast, which originated in the front end of a car parked in the townhouse drive. I notice that the local police have been joined by both the ATF and FBI, so we've basically got alphabet soup as far as federal agencies are concerned. It appears, based on the interest in this mishap, that there's more here than meets the eye. We'll keep you posted as the details are revealed . . ."

"Sounds like there was some excitement in Langley this morning," Frankie said.

Murdock was staring at the television in shock, the front of that townhouse looking all too familiar, "What was the address?"

Hannibal shrugged, "I didn't catch it, I think they said it was on Vine," he turned and looked at Murdock curiously, "Why?"

Murdock was still staring at the smoldering wreckage being displayed on the television, "It's Nancy's place," he said hollowly.

Frankie looked at Murdock sideways, "Abel 5?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Hannibal watched Murdock worriedly. As soon as the news story changed, Murdock's gaze met Hannibal's, and his look was worth a thousand words.

"Out on the deck," Hannibal said sharply, as he stood and led the way.

He was followed closely by Murdock and Face, with Frankie and BA straggling behind somewhat, in more ways than one. Hannibal turned as BA closed the door, "Alright, Murdock, are you sure that was Nancy's place?"

Murdock nodded numbly, worry apparent on his face. Hannibal pulled out a cigar and lit it, "Likelihood that this bombing is unrelated to our mission to Columbia?"

"Certainly makes it hard to refute Nancy's assertion that Nolan was dirty," Murdock stated.

"Agreed," Hannibal said.

Frankie still looked confused, "I think I'm a little behind the clue train, here, because I'm still stuck on exactly how it is that Murdock knows where Abel 5 lives," he looked at Murdock expectantly.

"Nancy is the woman I was with last weekend," Murdock said impatiently, "Hannibal, did they say how badly they were hurt?"

Hannibal looked at him sympathetically, "No, just that they were being taken to the local hospital," he said, "I'm sure they're being well tended, Captain. You know the General would make sure of it."

Murdock leaned back, his arms crossed, and lapsed into a brooding silence.

Hannibal glanced in the sliding door window, "Hopefully, the General will be able, _and willing_, to shed some light on this when he arrives," he said, "Until then, we go on with the morning as planned. We convene at the air field at 0900."

Murdock looked at Hannibal incredulously, "Colonel . . ."

Hannibal stopped and considered him seriously for a moment before responding, "Alright, head to the air field now – with a detour past the hospital," he capitulated to the unspoken request, "Just try to keep a low profile. And don't be late!"

"Thanks, Hannibal!" Murdock said gratefully, then turned and jogged through the house and out the front door.

"Wow," Frankie said, "Murdock and Abel 5. That is just so . . . bizarre."

"Yea," Face said, looking at Hannibal accusingly, "Bizarre, and idiotic. What happens when she runs and tells the General what's going on?

"I guess we'll just have to trust that she won't," Hannibal said sensibly.

"I don't trust anything about her," Face said flatly.

Hannibal sighed, "Ok, Face, we all get the picture. You don't like Abel 5. However, obviously Murdock does. And we're all going to have to come to grips with that eventually . . . even the General. Because something tells me it isn't likely to change."

He turned decisively and led the way back into the house, effectively ending the conversation for the time being.

Nancy lifted her head off her arms. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, but the ringing in her ears was finally subsiding to the point where she could stand it. The paramedics were lifting Trixie onto a board, and Nancy could see Joe hovering in the background, watching anxiously as his unconscious wife was being moved.

She glanced idly at the activity around her. A paramedic had appeared at her side, and was asking her questions, but Nancy was having trouble deciphering exactly what he was saying. Her attention was caught by someone she glimpsed between the fire truck at the curb and the ambulance behind it.

Ignoring the protestations of the paramedic, Nancy stumbled to her feet and started towards a tall, thin, dark-haired man, who had stopped next to the police line, talking to one of the officers monitoring the perimeter of the scene. He glanced up, caught sight of her, and turned abruptly, walking back to his car, getting in and pulling out through the crowd that choked the street in front of the townhouse.

"Is she giving you problems, son?" General Stockwell asked, grabbing Nancy's arm and restraining her.

Nancy looked at him in confusion for a moment, then gestured vaguely at the street, "That was Jack Larimer," she said loudly.

The General looked at her and spoke loudly and slowly, "Yes, I know. I want you to sit down and cooperate with the paramedic. I'll deal with Larimer."

"What does the DEA have to do with a domestic bombing, General?" Nancy asked angrily, her gaze never wavering from his.

"That's what I intend to find out," Stockwell said, turning and leaving Nancy in the care of the paramedic, who led her to a waiting ambulance.

Hospital Hiatus 

At the hospital, Nancy was taken up to the trauma unit, and put in a room to await a doctor. Soon a nurse came in, checked her over and asked several questions. Then she handed Nancy a gown, leaving her alone to change. Nancy obeyed numbly. Once changed, she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. Her head pounded in time to her heart beat, and her thoughts tumbled together like acrobats following an uncoordinated percussion section.

Larimer was there. Nancy felt certain that he was there to see his own handiwork. She had suspected that Nolan had a state-side accomplice. Larimer had shown his hand today, purposely or not. The General had to believe her now – the DEA had no reason to suspect a car bombing of being related to a drug case unless they were tipped off.

Nolan, Larimer . . . she was beginning to get just slightly paranoid. Who else at the DEA was on Palumbo's payroll – just how far did his influence infiltrate the drug agency? Palumbo had a lot at stake, and could afford to bankroll a hell of a lot of bribery money as part of his operating expense. She sighed, dropping her arm over her eyes, her head hurt too bad to think straight right now.

Murdock pulled into the hospital lot, parking out of sight of the road. He headed in through the emergency room doors, and was lucky enough to catch up with the news crew covering the explosion, "They were going to take the victims up to the trauma unit, on the third floor. Let's see what we can find out there," he overheard the reporter saying to the cameraman.

He took the stairs, and made it to the third floor before the news crew. He stood casually nearby as the reporter walked up to the desk, "Hello, Nurse . . .," he looked at her nametag, "Lily, I wonder if you could tell me who the bombing victims are?"

The nurse smiled blandly at him, "Sorry, only family. You'll have to wait for the names to be released, just like everyone else."

The reporter turned away in frustration, then grabbed the cameraman's arm, "Isn't that Joe Martin, of homicide?" he said excitedly, "Let's go see if we can get anything out of him."

"Detective Martin," the reporter said, tapping Joe on the shoulder, "Is the bombing now a homicide investigation?"

Joe looked like he wanted to deck the guy, "No, this is not a homicide investigation," he said, and shook the guy off, "I don't have anything to say."

He was saved from further harassment as a couple suits from the governmental agencies appeared, and the reporter had bigger fish to fry.

Murdock slipped away and followed Joe, who wandered into the waiting room. A doctor had slid around the crowd as well, and walked up to Joe, "Detective," the Doctor said gently, "I just wanted to let you know that your wife is going to be OK, and the baby is fine. Mrs. Martin has a few broken ribs along with multiple contusions, but nothing life-threatening. You'll be able to go in and see her in just a little while, once we get her settled in a room. She will have to stay overnight, but I think we'll be able to release her in the morning."

Joe's relief was visible, as he looked up and caught site of Murdock. He raised a surprised eyebrow, then nodded sympathetically at the pilot, and asked, "Doc, what about Nancy? Is she going to be OK?"

The Doctor smiled tolerantly. He really wasn't supposed to share information with non-family, but there were always exceptions to the rule, "Ms. Clay is going to be just fine. Badly bruised tailbone, cuts and contusions from flying debris, and a nasty headache, but other than that, she's OK. She'll likely be released this afternoon, but like your wife, we need to run a few tests to ensure there isn't any unseen damage."

The Doctor smiled, "Someone will be out in just a little while to take you to your wife, Detective," he said, then turned and brushed by Murdock.

Murdock's relief was as apparent as Joe's, and he looked at Joe gratefully, "Thanks."

"No problem," Joe said, looking at him curiously he added, "What are you doing here, anyway? Nancy said that you ended it."

"Yea, I guess I kinda did," Murdock said, uncomfortably, "I'm just relieved that she's OK."

"Well, if the bomb had been meant to kill, I doubt if either Nancy or Trixie would have walked away," Joe said flatly.

Murdock looked at him in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"Apparently, it was just a warning," Joe said, "I talked to the Feds, there was only enough explosive to make a statement, not enough to kill."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Murdock said, shaking his head.

Joe nodded in agreement, then crossed his arms, "So, you gave Nan the brush off, but you're here . . .," he said, looking at Murdock expectantly.

Murdock sighed heavily, "I can't stop thinking about her," he said frankly, "Unfortunately, after yesterday, I doubt she wants to see me again."

"Oh, I know she wants to see you again," Joe said certainly, "The real trick is going to be getting her to admit it."

Murdock looked at Joe narrowly, "Are you sure about that?" he asked, "Yesterday, she seemed more than willing to accept it."

"Classic. You've got her scared shitless _and_ you gave her an easy out . . ."

"I was just trying to be practical," Murdock said miserably, "Unfortunately, that never seems to work out real well for me."

"You do realize that you did this to yourself. I mean, I don't know how you did it originally, . . . ," Joe stopped and looked at Murdock shrewdly, "You do want her back, right?"

Murdock hesitated, but finally admitted, "Yea, I want her back," at Joe's amused expression, he grimaced, "You seem to be enjoying this . . ."

Joe chuckled, "You got your work cut out for you, man. Nan's got more emotional barriers than China has walls. I think a sneak attack got you through the original defenses, but now she's on high alert where you're concerned. It's gonna take a minor miracle for you to make it through again."

"Why does it have to be work . . ." Murdock said irritably.

"Nothing worth doing is easy," Joe said seriously, then added coldly, "If it's too hard for you, maybe you should just walk away."

Their eyes locked, and Murdock felt defiant, "Maybe I will . . ."

Joe considered him through narrowed eyes. Murdock's expression belied his words, and Joe started to chuckle again, "Yea, right," he said shaking his head, "You got it bad, man. Give in and get to work. You gotta believe me, she's well worth the effort."

During the past sleepless night Murdock had come to the forgone conclusion that he couldn't change how he felt about the Able agent, no matter how much he would like to, "It's just my lousy luck that the woman I'd fall for is an Able Agent," he muttered.

"An Able Agent . . .," Joe shook his head in resignation, "You need to talk to her."

He turned and walked towards one of the rooms, with Murdock following uncertainly.

"Hey, Jeff," Joe said to the man slouched next to the door.

Murdock stopped short as Jeff Kent looked up, "Hi, Joe. I heard Trix is gonna be OK," then Jeff caught sight of Murdock, and a smile crossed his face, "Well, hello Captain. Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

Murdock looked warily from Joe to Jeff, and Jeff chuckled, "Don't worry, Murdock. No way in hell the General's gonna hear about you and Able 5 from me. I got way too wide a yeller streak for that."

"How did you . . .?" Murdock started.

"For future reference," Jeff interrupted, "You and Nan should be a little more discreet about where you have your, uh, discussions."

Murdock grimaced, and Joe clapped him on the shoulder bracingly, "Don't worry about it, HM. Jeff's frame of reference with Nan is a little different then most people. He's probably the only one who noticed," Joe said.

"Well, I have to admit, I've never seen Nan quite so upset as she was when she arrived at the airfield yesterday," Jeff said thoughtfully, "Made me rather curious as to the cause. So maybe I did nose around a bit. I was at the airfield anyway."

Murdock sighed, they were probably lucky if nobody else had overheard them, "This whole situation is nuts," he said quietly.

"With Nan, there always seems to be a 'situation'," Jeff said in understanding, "Listen, if you wanna talk to her, you better get in there. I expect the General will be here soon."

Joe nodded, "Go on in and we'll watch for the General."

Murdock looked from Jeff to Joe, both of whom wore encouraging expressions. He hesitated only a moment more before disappearing into the room.

Jeff shook his head, "I knew there was somethin' goin on there. He had that look about him."

"What look is that?" Joe asked.

"That look that says, 'she's driving me nuts . . . and I think I like it'," Jeff said, "I used to have that look around her, remember?"

"Yea, then you came to your senses," Joe said, "Do you think Murdock will?"

Jeff shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe 10 years in the mental ward of a VA gave him some sort of insight into how to deal with her."

"If nothing else, he's had lots of experience living with crazy people," Joe said with a smile.

Jeff slouched against the door, "Yea, well, it had to happen, eventually," he said, "Some guy was bound to come along that would fall for her – _and_ could deal with all the baggage. Hopefully he'll be able to paint her into a corner she can't wrangle a retreat from – that seems to be the hardest part."

Joe grimaced, "Unfortunately Nan's still got one hell of an ace up her sleeve if she decides she needs an out."

Jeff looked at him curiously, then a look of understanding dawned on his face, "Murdock doesn't know who she is. Man, she pulled that one on me."

Joe shook his head, then turned and headed towards the window at the end of the hall, "I better go keep an eye out for the General."

Murdock walked in and found Nancy lying on the bed in a hospital gown, an arm thrown up over her eyes. She was still, except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, appearing to be deep in sleep. He looked at her critically, taking in the cuts and bruises, and feeling a sudden surge of anger at the man responsible. He took a deep calming breath, before saying tentatively, "Nan?"

She sat up suddenly and looked at him blankly for a moment, then grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her chin, "What in the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Murdock nearly laughed out loud at her reaction, overwhelming relief sweeping away the initial worry and anger as he responded, "You know, it's not like I haven't seen you naked," he said, reaching down and tugging on the sheet playfully.

Nancy pulled the sheet up tighter under her chin, "You have a lot of nerve, HM Murdock!" she said angrily.

He was still smiling stupidly at her, "I'm just glad that you're alright," he said.

"You've gotta get out of here," Nancy said, "The General could show up any minute."

"I know," Murdock said, dropping onto a stool, "Joe and Jeff are keeping an eye out for me."

"Great," she said sarcastically, "I'll have to thank them later."

He stared at her, considering how to continue, until she shifted uncomfortably.

"Nan, I'm really sorry about yesterday," he said earnestly, leaning forward, "I was wrong, I don't want it . . . us, to be over. I can't stop thinking about you and when I thought something had happened to you this morning . . .," his voice trailed off.

Nancy felt her heart leap involuntarily. But her defenses were on high alert, and kicked in almost immediately, "What about the Team? The pardons?" she asked cynically, "I thought you had too much to lose."

"It'll be OK," he said, putting a hand on her leg, "I talked to Hannibal. He said it's best if we keep it under wraps 'til after Columbia. But we'll work something out after that."

Nancy's eyes flashed, "I am not a problem to be 'worked out', _Captain_," she said, pushing his hand away, "You think just because you've decided that everything is OK, that's it?"

"Nan . . ." Murdock said beseechingly.

"No," she said firmly, "It's not that easy . . . or that simple."

Murdock sat back and looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Alright . . . it's not that easy," he said carefully, thinking about what Joe had said, "So, what do we do now?"

"Nothing," Nancy said quickly, curling up on the end of the bed, so she was as far away from him as possible, "It's better this way, HM. It's better if we just end this and get on with our _separate_ lives."

"That's what you want?" he asked tightly.

She looked into sad brown eyes, and felt her resolution wavering, so she turned and looked out the window, "Yes, that's what I want."

"At least have the courtesy to look at me when you're dumping me," Murdock said quietly.

"You dumped me first," Nancy said petulantly.

"It was a knee-jerk reaction," Murdock said watchfully, "And I am trying to undo it, but you're not cooperating. The ball's in your court – what do you really want?"

Nancy turned and looked at him for a few seconds, then her gaze dropped, "HM, it's just . . . it's easier this way. We've only known each other a few days . . ."

"It was a special few days," he argued gently.

Nancy sighed, "I don't know what you want me to do, HM," she said in frustration.

The door opened and Jeff stuck his head in, "Hey, the General just pulled in the lot."

Murdock looked back at him, and at that moment Jeff could tell things weren't going the way Murdock wanted, "Thanks, Jeff," he said quietly. Jeff backed out of the room and closed the door.

Turning back to Nancy, Murdock reached out and squeezed her hand, "Please, Nan, don't slam the door in my face," he said earnestly, "All I want is for you to say we can talk about it later, when I get back from Columbia."

"When _we_ get back," she said determinedly.

"You're joking, right?" Murdock asked incredulously, "You can't go to Columbia now. Palumbo is after you."

"No shit," Nancy said, "And I'm not gonna wait around here for some unknown hired gun to come take a shot. I'm going to Columbia, where I know Palumbo's men as well as he does."

"We're going to bring back a couple stray DEA agents. That's it," Murdock said, "There is no 'facing Palumbo' in the plan."

"Plans change," she countered intently, "And you better understand one thing, HM Murdock – I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If we do have a relationship . . .," she caught herself, adding hastily, ". . . and I said 'if' . . . it's going to be an equal partnership. I don't need a keeper."

Murdock searched her face, but she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze, "Does that mean we can talk about our relationship when we get back from Columbia?" he finally asked directly.

She looked up at him, her expression uncertain, and he pressed, "C'mon, Nan," he said pleadingly, "I'm not asking for a life long commitment at this point. Just a promise that you'll at least talk to me, about us, when we get back from Columbia."

The door opened again, and Jeff said urgently, "He's on his way up, you better get outta here, Murdock!"

Without releasing her gaze, Murdock stood and leaned forward, "Promise?" he asked, his face only inches from hers.

Nancy nodded mutely, unable to think clearly with him so close.

"Thank you," Murdock said gratefully, leaning in to plant an impulsive kiss on her cheek, before straightening and walking toward the door.

As he moved away, Nancy found her voice, "I'll be by the airfield as soon as I can get out," she told him unequivocally.

He stopped at the door and looked back at her in surprise, "Nan, don't be stubborn. You're in no shape to go anywhere right now."

Nancy's anger flared again, "You better get a grip, because I am going to Columbia, and I'm not putting up with an over-protective flyboy doting after me. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Murdock said quietly.

Jeff was watching sympathetically, but this was taking far too much time, "You better move it, the General's on his way up," he said urgently, practically pulling Murdock out of the room, "Go down the back stairs."

Murdock allowed himself to be steered down the hall. At the door to the stairwell, he stopped and gave Jeff and Joe a quick 'thanks' before stepping through the door, just as the elevator opened and General Stockwell stepped out.

It took Stockwell awhile to make it down to Nancy's room, giving her some time to gather her wits about her, after Murdock's hasty departure. She stared out the window, trying to figure out exactly what had happened in the last few minutes.

"How are you feeling, Nancy?" Stockwell asked perfunctorily, startling Nancy out of her reverie.

She turned and looked at him, a resigned smile crossing her face, "I'm fine. Can you do something to get me out of here?"

"I'll talk to the Doctor and see what's needed," he said brusquely, turning and walking back out.

Nancy hugged her knees, thinking that it was sad statement on her life that a man who had known her for a scant three days seemed to care more about her than one who had known her all her life.

Resignation 

Murdock walked in at the air field a little early, and found Hannibal sitting at the table with BA. Frankie and Face were conspicuously absent. Murdock dropped into one of the folding chairs that had been set up. BA and Hannibal had obviously been busy bringing some office materials from the Compound to here. The large area map was clipped up on an easel, and the work bench had been pulled over to allow room for several of the aerial photos to be tacked up.

Hannibal looked up as Murdock slid up to the table, "So, how are Able 5 and Able 12?"

"Trixie's gonna be in the hospital overnight with broken ribs and a concussion, but nothing serious," he supplied, "Nancy will likely be out this afternoon, she only suffered some cuts and bruises from being thrown back from the explosion."

"Sounds like they were lucky," Hannibal said, and Murdock nodded agreement, reminded briefly about what Joe had said.

BA was looking at Murdock with concern, "How 'bout you, crazy man? You OK?"

Murdock was always caught off guard when BA showed blatant concern about him, "No, BA, I'm not OK. I totally screwed things up with Nan," he said in frustration, dropping his head in his hands, "Add to that the fact that she's still hell-bent on going to Columbia, even though it's obvious that Palumbo's got it in for her . . ."

Hannibal sat back and looked at Murdock directly, "Honestly, Murdock, did you expect her to react any differently?" he asked.

"It's foolish for her to go down to Columbia," Murdock said flatly, "She's just putting herself right in the lion's den."

Hannibal smiled thoughtfully, "Yea, she is. But she's going down with her eyes wide open, and with the situation on her own terms, not his," Murdock looked at Hannibal sharply, hearing Nancy's words echoed in his commanding officer's, "You know, Murdock, if you were in Nancy's place, I expect you'd be making the same decision."

Hannibal stood up, "I'm going to get a cup of coffee, anybody else want one?" When Murdock and BA both shook there heads, Hannibal turned and left the hangar, leaving Murdock to consider what he had said.

Released 

It took another couple hours for the testing to be completed, and the Doctors to declare Nancy fit to leave. She'd had no choice but to put on the clothing she'd been wearing during the blast, and wanted to get home, get a shower and change. But first, she had to stop in and see that Trixie was alright for herself, even though she'd been assured by everyone that there was nothing to worry about.

She knocked at the door before stepping in. Joe was sitting in a chair and stood as she entered the room. Trixie was lying in the bed, half asleep.

Nancy came in and sat on the edge of the bed, "How are you feeling, Trix?"

Trixie smiled at her wanly, "Well, I always wanted to go out with a bang," she joked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," Nancy said in relief. If Trixie could still joke, she wasn't doing too badly.

She took her friend's hand gently, "I was so relieved to hear the baby was OK."

Tears welled in Trixie's eyes. When she had awakened after the blast, her first thought had been of the baby. She'd never been so frightened, and at that moment had realized that there was nothing more important than the life growing inside of her.

"I told the General, Nan," Trixie choked, "I told him I quit. I can't take a chance like this again."

"It's OK, Trix," Nancy said, then smiled, patted her hand, and stood, "Of course, you might want to stop hanging around with me for awhile."

Joe looked at Nancy through narrowed eyes, "So, what's your next move?"

She turned and faced him, "Now, more than ever, I've gotta go to Columbia," she replied determinedly, "Getting Palumbo out of the picture is the only way to resolve the situation."

Joe nodded in understanding, and they were all quiet for a few minutes.

It was Trixie who broke the silence, "So, how did things go with HM this morning?" she asked tentatively.

Nancy gave Joe a brief glare, before looking back at Trixie, and shifting uncomfortably "I don't know," she said, "He wants to talk about it after we get back. But honestly, I don't really see the point. Nothing is going to change."

Joe crossed his arms in irritation, "Did you two take lessons when you signed up with Stockwell Enterprises?" he asked, "Trixie pulled this same kinda shit on me for six long years. Is it gonna take a two by four to the side of the head to make you realize that the guy cares about you? He risked a hell of lot showing up here this morning."

"Just drop it, Joe" Nancy said sharply.

"Why do you have to be so fucking bull-headed?" Joe asked angrily.

"_I_ am being practical," Nancy countered flatly.

Joe snorted, "Like hell, what you're being is a coward."

Nancy and Joe stood toe to toe, glaring at each other, but as Nancy opened her mouth to retort, Trixie interrupted, "Alright, that's enough," she said loudly, and both of them turned towards her.

Trixie had managed to prop herself up on an elbow, "Joe, let it go," she said emphatically, then turned to Nancy, getting in her own dig, "If Nancy wants to screw up the best thing that ever happened to her, it's her own damn business," she laid back in the bed, her energy spent.

Trixie looked grey, except for the two splotches of red on her cheeks, and as she sank back onto the bed, Joe hurried to her side. Nancy was torn between overwhelming concern for her friend, and a lingering anger at both of them. She took a deep breath – Joe would take care of Trixie, he always did. Her presence was just causing problems right now. She turned and walked to the door, deciding that it was past time for her to leave, anyway.

Trixie opened her eyes, and called after her, "Nan, please be careful,"

Nancy turned and smiled weakly at Trixie, "I'm always careful," she said, adding in an apologetic tone, "You two take care of each other and I'll see you in a couple weeks."

As Nancy stepped into the hall, Jeff Kent stood up and glared at her, "Thought you could give me the slip, huh?"

"Since you're my ride home, that would have been pretty stupid," she said irritably, "Do you know if my bug was totaled in the blast?" she asked, as they started down the hall.

"The bug's fine," Jeff said, falling into step beside her, "but it's not going anywhere, since the wreckage of the sedan is still sitting in front of it."

"Well, then, can I drop you off at home?" Nancy asked.

"And have the General rip me a new one because I let you out of my sight? No way," Jeff said quietly, "My orders are to deliver you safely to the airfield and that's what I intend to do."

"Fine," she said resignedly, "I gotta go home to shower and change first."

"Fine," Jeff echoed, "Let's go."

The Plot Thins 

General Stockwell sat patiently in Jack Larimer's office. He had been sitting there for the last hour, quietly seething. If Larimer was involved in the bombing, he would have his head on a platter. Not only had the General sided with the DEA over a trusted Able agent, but over his own niece. He didn't like being made a fool of.

Larimer walked in, "Hello, General Stockwell," he said graciously, "Sarah says you've been here for awhile. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

The General quietly ignored the hand that Larimer held out in greeting, "What were you doing on Vine Street this morning?"

Larimer looked at the General calculatingly as he took a seat behind his desk, "I had come to warn your agent that she was in danger," he said quietly, "I realized when I arrived that it was too late and decided to get out of the way of the proper authorities."

Stockwell didn't believe him, "If you had information about one of my agents, you should have contacted me."

Larimer's gaze was passive, but his eyes were shaded. The General watched him carefully, as he responded, "Certainly, under other circumstances, I would have," Larimer said slowly, "But unfortunately the communiqué had come in early this morning and I thought it best if I delivered the message directly, to save time."

"Obviously, you weren't fast enough," Stockwell said evenly, "In the future, you will communicate any 'warnings' regarding my agents to me directly and immediately. I have the ability to follow up rapidly by non-traditional means, and the mishap this morning might have been avoided."

Larimer licked his lips, "Of course, General, I apologize for the delay. It won't happen again."

"From whom did the communiqué come?" Stockwell asked.

"Nolan had overheard Palumbo talking on the phone," Larimer said, "Palumbo was putting a contract out on Agent Clay. She is in a great deal of danger," he continued in a calculating tone, "Perhaps the DEA could offer safe custody to her until we can get Palumbo under control."

Stockwell had to suppress his amusement at the thought of Nancy in DEA custody. It might just be worth her wrath, to see what would happen if he allowed Larimer to offer it to her personally, but he quickly thought better of it. Larimer was no match for Nancy, either mentally or physically.

"Thank you, Agent Larimer, but that will not be necessary," Stockwell said, standing, "I trust that we understand each other. In the future I will expect more prompt communication from this office. Good day."

General Stockwell turned and walked out of the office. He was now certain that Nancy was right. Nolan had jumped the fence, with Larimer on his coat tails. He wondered idly who he could trust. At the moment, he felt certain that Nancy was safest with the A-Team, even if they were headed into Palumbo's back yard.

Shaken Trust 

Face and Frankie had arrived back at the airfield, with another load of records from the compound. Hannibal had set them to work organizing everything, while Murdock and BA performed a routine maintenance check on the plane. That work had kept Murdock and Face off each other's backs for about an hour. They reconvened when Carla arrived.

She glanced around the gathered men, "I am afraid that there has been an incident this morning," she began cryptically, "Able 5 and Able 12 were caught in an explosion, and while they are both fine, they will obviously not be joining you right away."

"The General asked me to stop by and let you know that he is going to explore the possibility that there is a connection between the mission, and the incident this morning," Carla continued, "He will be here this afternoon to update you on his findings and update status on the mission. Until then, you are to continue your evaluation of the surveillance data, and planning for the mission, assuming that it will commence as originally stated."

Hannibal considered Carla seriously, "And how are Nancy and Trixie?"

"Ms. Martin has broken ribs and a concussion, and will be spending the night in the hospital," Carla said.

"Ms. Clay," she added, her dislike of Nancy apparent in her tone of voice, "Suffered little beyond minor cuts and bruising. She may be joining you later this afternoon."

"That's all I have for you, gentlemen," Carla said with finality, "You will have to wait until the General arrives this afternoon for more details. Good day."

As the hangar door closed behind Carla, Hannibal raised an eyebrow, "I'd say that Carla doesn't care for Able 5."

"Nice to know I'm not alone," Face said quietly.

An irritated looked crossed Murdock's face, and Hannibal sighed, "Cool it, Face," he said sharply, "Now, obviously, Palumbo does know who Nancy is. If she's still accompanying us to Columbia, what does this fact mean to the mission?"

"If Palumbo know she an agent, why not just have her killed outright and be done wi' it?" BA asked.

"My thought exactly," Hannibal said, nodding, "Could have just been a botched job."

"Joe said that he talked to the Feds at the scene," Murdock supplied, "They said it was a warning shot – there wasn't nearly enough explosive there to kill anyone."

"Make her suffer," Face said.

"Face," Murdock said sharply.

He looked back at Murdock, "I mean, maybe Palumbo wanted to make her suffer, you know, for betraying him."

Hannibal looked at Murdock uneasily, "That would seem to imply a rather more intimate relationship then I understood existed."

"You don't think Palumbo would allow her to stay at the hacienda for a whole week without getting something in return, Colonel," Face said bitingly, "She's probably only told us half of what went on down there. Now do you see why we shouldn't trust her?"

Murdock crossed his arms, and considered Face through narrowed eyes. He wanted to trust Nancy, but he had to grudgingly admit that Face had a point. Silently, he hoped Nancy was omitting details inadvertently, and not purposely. Personally, he was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt, but obviously Face's distrust was deepening.

"What do you think, Captain?" Hannibal asked bluntly.

Murdock shook his head, "It's hard to tell, Colonel," he said uncertainly, "She suffers from PTS, and a stressful situation like that could have caused some recall problems. Or, maybe she's just omitting details, to spare my feelings. Either way, if there was more to their relationship than meets the eye, it could have a major affect on how we approach the mission."

Hannibal nodded, glad Murdock was being analytical and not emotional about the situation, "If Palumbo is nursing a broken heart over our little Able Agent, it could give us a definite angle to use for our trip to Columbia."

Murdock felt his heart drop into his feet, he knew where Hannibal was going with this, and he didn't like it at all.

Rough Ride Home 

Nancy dropped into the passenger's seat of the sedan, that Andrew Macey had been sitting on ever since this morning. Jeff and Andy had been given the dubious pleasure of keeping an eye on Nancy, a chore that none of the Able agents would have taken on happily.

Andy sat down in the back seat, "I thought we were going to be done by noon," he said grumpily.

"Sorry, Andy," Nancy said, "I didn't think they were ever gonna let me outta there."

"Well, can we just drop you at the airfield and be done?"

Nancy glanced over at Jeff, who started the car and pulled out, "You were supposed to be at some luncheon for your wife today, weren't you?"

"Yea, and if we hurry I can be only a little late," Andy said.

"Tell me where to drop you, and I'll take Nan to the airfield," Jeff said, "I shouldn't have to leave the car again, so I can handle it on my own."

After they dropped Andy at a local restaurant, Jeff sighed in relief, "I think the General is punishing me, partnering me with Macey," he said, "The guy does nothing but complain. Of course, if I had his wife, I think I'd piss and moan all the time, too."

Nancy chuckled, "Andy does tend to whine a bit, but he's a decent agent."

Jeff looked at her sideways, "So, are you feeling OK?"

"Yea, I'm alright," Nancy said, unconvincingly.

Jeff considered her shrewdly, before asking tentatively, "And, how did everything go with Captain Murdock this morning?"

Nancy's expression darkened, "You know, I forgot to thank you for smuggling him in – what was it, some sort of payback?" she said sarcastically, "Trying to get me in really deep shit with the General, aren't you, Kent?"

"C'mon, Nan, you know we've got your back," Jeff said calmly with a slight smile, "Besides, I like Murdock. He's a decent guy. And God knows the General treats him like shit. There's something . . . fitting about you two together."

"We aren't together," Nancy said sharply, "And you'd better not breathe a word about this to anyone else. I really don't want the General finding out. It would just cause trouble all the way around."

"You know, that's really nothing unusual where you're involved, Nan," Jeff said with a smile.

"If you don't have anything constructive to say, then just shut up," she said irritably.

Jeff raised an eyebrow, "You want me to say something _constructive_," he asked sternly, "Here ya go, sweetheart. Drop the queen bitch bit, and admit that you've fallen for the guy. He's right for you, and you know it."

"Even if that's true, it's not going to matter when he finds out who I am," Nancy said flatly.

Jeff felt like he'd been sucker-punched, "Just because I couldn't face your family tree, doesn't mean he can't, Nan," he said reasonably, "Murdock is head over heels for you, and I don't really think he's going to care who your uncle is, it's just not his style. If you're so worried about it, why don't you tell him?"

"I would, but I want them to treat me like a member of the team, not like a fucking princess," Nancy said, "That's gonna be difficult enough as it is, since they seem to distrust anyone or anything connected to the General. Imagine how it would be if they knew I was his niece."

"Fair enough. In a twisted kind of way, I even understand that logic," Jeff said, "But Murdock isn't the Team, and he needs to know."

"If Murdock knows, the Team will know," she said, "He's made it quite clear to me where his loyalty lies."

"So you're gonna keep lying to him? To all of them?"

"It isn't a lie," Nancy said, "It's just . . . an omission of information."

"You sound like your Uncle when you say shit like that," Jeff said with a shake of his head.

Nancy looked at him sharply, "You know, I didn't ask for your opinion."

Jeff pulled up to the curb outside her townhouse. There was a crime scene crew working on sifting through the mess in her driveway, leaving no room to pull in.

He took a deep breath, put the car in park, and turned to face her, "You know, Nan, despite what you think, I care about you. And while I may not be the brightest bulb in the box, I can speak from experience on this particular subject," he looked at her intently, "Murdock deserves the whole truth. I know that what happened between us is making you hesitant to do that, and I'm sorry. But Murdock isn't me, and I really don't think he's going to care who your uncle is."

Nancy looked at Jeff, then opened the car door and got out, "This is really none of your business, Jeff."

Jeff got out and stood leaning against the car when she came around, "You're right, it's none of my business," he agreed, "But every once in a blue moon you should try listening to your friends. We may not be as smart as you, but we can't be wrong all the time."

"So, we're still friends?" Nancy asked tartly.

"Nan, we never stopped being friends," Jeff said quietly, "We just stopped being lovers."

"All because I was a Stockwell by blood," Nancy said bitterly.

Jeff shook his head resignedly, "Please, don't use me as the next excuse to dump on Murdock. The guy loves you, Nan. Any idiot can see it when he looks at you."

Nancy had crossed her arms, and was kicking at the ground, "For the record, I think I am an idiot," she said, "Perhaps, in the end, HM will overlook that."

Jeff smiled at her, "Oh, I think he's got it pretty bad," he said, "But you gotta tell him the truth."

"I will," Nancy said, "I'm just not sure when."

"The sooner the better," he insisted.

Nancy nodded, then motioned vaguely at the apartment, "I'm gonna go in and get a shower and change," she said, "I shouldn't be long."

"Hey, don't forget to pack a bag," Jeff said in afterthought.

"What for?" Nancy asked, "We don't leave until tomorrow."

"General says you're to stay at the Compound tonight," Jeff said, wincing in anticipation of the reaction, "He doesn't want to take any chances. He's got a couple agents on Trix, too, just in case."

Nancy opened her mouth then closed it, there was no point in arguing with Jeff, he was just the messenger, "Fine, I'll pack a bag."

Intruder 

Nancy walked into her apartment, and sighed when she saw the mess in the living room, thinking wryly that it was reflective of her life at the moment. The blast had blown out the two windows on the corner of the townhouse closest to the drive, and there was broken glass all over the living room. Maybe staying at the Compound wasn't such a bad idea after all. At least then she wouldn't have to deal with this until later. Someone, she guessed Dan, had been kind enough to at least cover the broken windows with plywood and plastic, to keep the weather out.

She walked past the mess and started up the stairs, where her steps slowed. Something felt off, but she couldn't put her finger on it at first. Then it registered, there were places on the steps where it looked like there was glitter. On closer inspection, she realized that is was small flecks of broken glass, catching the light from the window on the stair landing. Someone had walked through the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs before her. Dan wouldn't have, and she couldn't think of anyone else that should have been in her house, particularly on the second floor.

She felt instinctively for her gun, and backed silently down the stairs, and back to the door. She stepped out on the front porch and motioned to Jeff, who grabbed one of the police officers and asked him to keep an eye on the car while he stepped away.

He ran up to her, "That was quick . . ."

She put a finger to her lips, "I think someone is upstairs," she whispered.

They both pulled their weapons out and moved silently into the townhouse, carefully and quietly checking the downstairs as a matter of procedure before heading to the second floor.

They had cleared the spare room, and were moving slowly down the hall towards Nancy's bedroom, which was at the rear of the townhouse, when they heard a crash.

"In my bedroom," Nancy said, running to the door and pushing it open. They found her bedroom window open with the screen torn out. The crash had been the sound of the intruder jumping out and landing on the compost bin on the rear patio.

"He's headed for the back alley, I'll go after him, you call backup," Jeff shouted, turning and running down the rear stair to pick up pursuit.

Nancy pulled her satellite phone out and made the call, before turning and following Jeff.

When Nancy got to the rear of the lot, Jeff was already walking back in through the gate, jotting in a notebook, "He had a car sitting in the alley," Jeff said, "Fuckin' license plate was covered in mud, but I got a partial."

Jeff shoved the notebook back in his pocket, "I imagine the General will want to know why the hell I'm here with you alone," he said dolefully, "So my ass is in a sling."

Nancy smiled at him, "I called Andy, first. He should be here before backup."

"Thanks, Nan," Jeff said gratefully, "C'mon, let's clear the rest of the house."

Hannibal had set them back to work on surveillance data, in particular, the hacienda layout. They all needed to know that place inside and out. He had found Nancy's report from her week in the hacienda, which provided a detailed description of the interior layout – at least as much as she had been able to explore. She had even provided a sketch of it, with most of the detail in Palumbo's private suite, in the east wing, but there was at least a general layout for the remainder of the hacienda and grounds.

While the Team was studying the layout and committing it to memory, he pulled out the report of her week at the hacienda. He read it through once very quickly, then went back to read more closely, searching between the lines for some clues to what they could expect. Her report was very factual, with little regarding her relationship with Palumbo. As Murdock had said, that could have a significant bearing on how they approached this mission.

Over the last hour, there had been spurts of conversation, with Face finding every opportunity to make disparaging comments about Nancy. Hannibal had been trying to let it slide, hoping Face would get it out of his system, but it was starting to grate even on his nerves. He looked up from the report, and noticed belatedly that Murdock wasn't even at the table.

"Where's the Captain?" he asked.

Face looked guilty, but it was BA that answered, "I think he went into the plane, Hannibal."

Hannibal stood and stretched, "Alright, obviously we all need a break. Face, Frankie, take the van and head out to pick up the personal supplies. BA, you finish up that maintenance check on the plane."

As Frankie and Face started to leave, Hannibal put a hand on Face's arm, "You better get a grip, Lieutenant," he said quietly, "Innocent until proven guilty applies to Able 5, as well as anybody else. Understand?"

Face nodded grudgingly, before turning to walk out. He only had his gut to go by, but he knew for certain that there was something significant that Able 5 wasn't telling them – and he was bound and determined to find out what it was.

Andy managed to make it to Nancy's apartment before backup, which was fortunate because the General wasn't far behind. An hour later, the police had been alerted, statements filed, and a second crime scene crew dispatched to the apartment to see if they could get anything of use in identifying the intruder. Since Nancy's entire apartment was now a crime scene, her activities were severely limited. She had been allowed to go in and grab clothes for her trip, but that was it. Dan and Nel had graciously allowed her to come in and use their shower.

General Stockwell had let Jeff and Andy take off for the rest of day, and was waiting for Nancy, with the limo, when she came out of her neighbor's apartment. She thanked Dan and Nel once more for all their help, then turned and walked out to the waiting limo. She glanced back at her apartment as she crossed the yard, wondering if it would ever feel safe again.

The General opened the rear door to the limo for her himself, and got in behind her.

As they pulled away from the curb, he looked at her in concern, "I know it's been a long day," he said gently, "and I hate to make you stay at the Compound, but I really think it's the safest place right now."

"You know, Uncle, it really catches me off guard when you're so thoughtful," Nancy said in bemusement.

He was looking at her disquietly, and Nancy finally turned to him and said, "What is it?"

"I believe I owe you an apology," he said precisely.

"Really?" Nancy said, looking at him in surprise, "I didn't think you knew how to apologize."

"Don't be a smart ass and make this more difficult than it already is," the General said irritably, "I spoke with Larimer, who was obviously lying. I'm sorry I didn't at least consider your suspicions about Nolan. They were, apparently, not without merit."

"'Not without merit' isn't exactly the same as right, but you take what you can get," Nancy said, turning and looking at him in amusement, "So, basically what you're saying is, I was right, and you were wrong," she knocked on the privacy glass, which rolled down immediately, "Hey, Frank, I just wanted a witness to this. I was right and the General was wrong – he's even admitting it. Right General?" Nancy looked at Stockwell smugly.

"That's enough," Stockwell said sharply, rolling the privacy glass back up between them and his visibly amused chauffer, "This has serious implications for the mission to Columbia."

"In what way?"

"I don't know who to trust at the DEA. I'm going to have to hedge what I tell them about what you're doing down there and when," his look was introverted as he considered the possibilities, "It may be best to delay the mission."

"Delay could be seriously detrimental to Freddie," Nancy said, "Besides, the element of surprise is with a quick attack, we lose ground the longer we wait."

"How can you be sure Littleford hasn't joined Nolan in Palumbo's back pocket?" Stockwell asked.

"No way," Nancy said certainly, "Fred's a damn good agent and definitely the loyal-until-the-end type. He's a career man with a love for the hunt. The money doesn't mean a whole lot to him – and that's all Palumbo has to offer."

Stockwell considered that carefully. The last time he hadn't respected Nancy's ability to read people, the results had been far too close to disastrous, "OK, well in order to end this," he said musingly, "I don't think we have any choice but to take Palumbo, along with Nolan, and hopefully get Littleford out alive. Maybe then we can at least clean house at the DEA, and make a small dent in the Columbian drug supply."

"Not much of a dent," Nancy said disdainfully, "So Palumbo disappears – there'll be another leech waiting in the wings to take his place."

"Perhaps," Stockwell said, "But at least the one who is threatening you will no longer be a threat."

"So we're gunning for Palumbo now?"

"I want him and Nolan for questioning," the General said, "It's going to be tricky getting both of them, and still getting Littleford out alive.

The limo had pulled into the airfield lot and stopped. The General turned and looked at Nancy seriously, "I have come to the conclusion that your presence with the Team on this mission _is_ for the best," he said, "But I want one thing understood – Colonel Smith calls the shots."

Nancy opened the door and grabbed her duffel, stepping out of the car, "Don't worry, Uncle. I have a great deal of respect for Colonel Smith," she said, then turned and leaned in to look at him, "Just for the record – you're the only person who has trouble with me 'behaving'. Chalk it up to being family and drop it. And _please_ stop telling everyone what a discipline problem I am."

Nancy slammed the door and walked off towards the hangar at a good pace, leaving General Stockwell watching after her with a perplexed look on his face.

New Plan 

Hannibal was standing and gazing at the quadrangle map of Columbia unseeingly, running through various scenarios in his mind yet again. He turned as the hangar door opened and Nancy came walking in.

He nodded at her, "Good to see you in one piece."

"Good to be in one piece," she said, smiling, "Even if that one piece is a little worse for the wear."

She walked to the table and sat carefully in a chair. Her discussion with the General had set her mind into overdrive.

Hannibal considered her quietly for a minute. As she'd gotten closer, he'd noticed the signs of her ordeal this morning. There were cuts and scratches on her face and arms, and when she had sat down, she moved gingerly.

"So," he finally said, "Is the General on his way here?"

Nancy glanced up at him, as if surprised he was still there, "He's here," she said absently, "Should be in shortly."

Her eyes focused on him, "The General says he wants Palumbo now, Colonel," she said without preamble.

Hannibal turned back to the map. He wasn't surprised by the statement and had actually been considering how best to address that eventuality. He pointed a black-gloved finger at the hacienda, and traced the path of the one 'road' out to the nearest village. Pulling Palumbo from his hacienda was going to present a huge challenge.

Nancy had slipped back into her own silence, but her thoughts were interrupted as the good-natured bantering that had been coming from the direction of the cargo plane, turned to angry voices. She looked at Hannibal curiously, recognizing Murdock's voice and, she thought, that of the large taciturn Sergeant, "Are they alright in there?" she asked in concern.

Hannibal shrugged noncommittally, "Nothing unusual," he said, "Murdock tends to goad BA unmercifully when he's upset about something," Hannibal's eyes surreptitiously slid to her face as he said this, and he noted the distraught look that crossed her features before being quickly hidden.

Hannibal smiled inwardly. Though he still felt a need to explore exactly what had happened between Nancy and Palumbo at the hacienda, he had no doubt that her feelings for Murdock were genuine, which gave him a certain peace of mind going into the mission.

At her curious look, he continued to explain, "It's just a more mild form of the destructive tendencies Murdock developed in 'Nam," he turned and looked her directly, "He used to goad less-than-friendly marines when he was upset over there, which was most of the time. More than once BA came to his rescue during those little events and took him to the infirmary to get patched back up."

Soon Murdock's voice took on a definite strangled quality, and Hannibal turned, shaking his head, "BA, put Murdock down," he said striding towards the plane and ducking through the back end to referee the conflict. Soon all three came walking out. BA's expression was black, and Murdock was following him, rubbing his neck. Hannibal brought up the rear, a tolerant expression in place.

"Geez, BA," Murdock said, "All I did was ask whether you wanted your sedative sunny-side-up or over-easy," a slightly manic grin lit his face as he repeated the retaliation-precipitating comment.

BA growled and rounded on Murdock and Hannibal quickly stepped between them, "C'mon, BA, lighten up," Hannibal said, "We need Murdock to fly the plane."

BA's eyes landed on Nancy, and a rare grin crossed his features, "Nan could fly us," he said, looking at Murdock he added mischievously, "Mebe then I wouldn' need the sedative."

Murdock shrugged, and gave Nancy a smile, "Fine by me," he said, and his smile broadened, "I can catch some shuteye with the big guy on the flight that way!"

The hangar door opened and General Stockwell came striding in, with Face and Frankie close behind.

The General looked at Hannibal with raised eyebrows, "Did you lose a couple men, Colonel?"

Hannibal smiled thinly, but didn't respond. He was beginning to worry that with the feisty little Able catalyst in their midst, his team might just self-destruct.

The assembly ranged in a loose group around the quadrangle map, and the General stepped forward, "Gentlemen, I believe you are all aware of the bombing this morning," he said, "There was also an intruder at Able 5's apartment early this afternoon. I've spoken with the supervisor at the DEA, whose responses to questioning have left me with misgivings about their involvement in this mission. While I am certain that the DEA has been compromised by Palumbo, I have no way of knowing how deep his influence runs."

"As a result, I have decided that this mission will be delayed for a week, while we regroup and I attempt to determine what the best course of action is. When you do head to Columbia, you will be going down with the goal not only of bringing back the two DEA agents, but also Mr. Palumbo himself."

"Why delay?" Nancy asked.

"We can't go in blind."

Nancy glanced at Hannibal who was puffing on his cigar, his arms crossed and his eyes shaded. It was almost impossible to gage his reaction to the General's announcement, but she decided to forge ahead, hoping her read of the situation aligned with the Colonel's, "I don't believe Colonel Smith was going down there at all blind, even before today's events," she said quietly, "And delaying a week is going to do nothing but ruin the element of surprise."

The General's jaw had tightened as Nancy spoke, and he turned to Hannibal, "Smith, do you have anything to add?"

Hannibal took his cigar out of his mouth, "I agree with Able 5 – delaying a week is not going to do anything but hurt us," he said without hesitation, "I would like to delay a day to integrate the new objective into the plan, but certainly not a week."

The General considered Hannibal through narrowed eyes, then looked at Nancy, "You will be going down there with no knowledge of whom within the DEA you can trust," he said quietly.

"I think it would be best if the DEA were kept in the dark about what _we_ are doing," Nancy said.

Hannibal's eyes narrowed. He'd been watching her for the last 15 minutes, and knew that she had been formulating her own ideas about how best to approach this mission given the new objective, "What do you have in mind?"

Nancy looked at Hannibal uncertainly at first, but then her gaze became determined. She turned to the General, "Does Larimer suspect that you're on to him?"

"I certainly wasn't going to show my hand this early in the game," Stockwell said shortly.

"Then he still believes that you are discounting my suspicions," she said thoughtfully, "That, along with his direct line to Palumbo, we can definitely use to our advantage."

Hannibal could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she spoke, "So, you tell Larimer that I've gone rogue – headed down to Columbia without clearance."

"You ARE NOT going down there alone," the General practically exploded.

Nancy's gaze was calm, "Of course I'm not. I may be reckless at times, but I'm not suicidal," she said matter-of-factly, "The Team and I will go to Columbia, basically as planned, with a days delay," she glanced at Hannibal in acknowledgement, "But when we get there, rather than hitting Palumbo at the hacienda, we lure him to the village."

Hannibal was nodding in understanding, "If we can get Palumbo away from the hacienda, it's going to be much easier to take him," he looked at Nancy curiously, "But, if he's suspecting an attack, he's unlikely to head into the village, away from his strong hold."

"If the General feeds Larimer the story that the Team's mission has been delayed until Nolan can provide some information on what has happened with Stockwell Enterprise's rogue agent, Palumbo won't be expecting an all out attack. He'll be awaiting the arrival of a lone agent – an agent that he's got a personal vendetta against," Nancy said, "When we arrive, I'll make my presence in the village obvious. Trust me, that egocentric asshole won't be able to stay away."

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully, there were some holes in the logic, like how was she going to travel with 5 men and not have Palumbo become suspicious, and how did the DEA agents fit into the whole thing. However, it was a good place to start the contingency and scenario planning.

The General didn't look overly enamored of the idea, "It sounds very risky."

"No riskier than any other scenario," Hannibal argued, "Besides, it's really just a starting place for contingency planning. There are still a lot of details and angles to work out."

"What about the original objective of bringing back the DEA agents?" Stockwell argued.

"I have some ideas there," Hannibal said thoughtfully, "Like I said, there are a lot of angles to work out before we come up with a final plan."

Apparently, Stockwell was having trouble coming up with any other arguments against moving ahead immediately, "Very well," he conceded, "You'll be leaving Thursday morning for Columbia. Meanwhile, I will see what I can discover on this end."

"Once we get our angle figured out, we'll let you know what story to feed to the DEA," Hannibal said.

Stockwell acknowledged that with a nod, "Able 5 will be joining you at the Compound until your departure," he looked at Hannibal significantly, before dismissing them, "Colonel, if I could have a brief word outside," and with that he turned and walked out of the hangar. Hannibal shrugged and followed.

As Hannibal stepped outside the hangar, the General turned and looked at Hannibal, "I trust you to treat Able 5 as one of your team, Colonel," Stockwell said without preamble, then added seriously, "And I expect your men to treat her with respect – particularly Lieutenant Peck. She's off limits. Understood?"

"You don't want Face hitting on her," Hannibal said around his cigar, his expression neutral, "That I understand."

Stockwell looked at Hannibal through narrowed eyes, then nodded in acknowledgement, "Alright, I'll be by tomorrow to check on planning progress," then turned and walked away.

Hannibal walked back into the hangar and up to the front of the assembly, "Well, we've got a little more time, but a lot more problems to figure out," he said, his eyes roving over all of them, "Now, I want everyone's uncensored opinions about the proposed idea."

"I don't like it," Murdock stated flatly.

Nancy turned flashing eyes on him, "Don't start that again, Captain," she said, her voice low and uncompromising.

Murdock gazed at her unwaveringly, "Hannibal said uncensored opinions, and my uncensored opinion is that Palumbo wants something, and at this point I'm not sure what that is," he looked at her directly, "That makes using you as bait a very risky proposition, for everyone involved. Unless you know something we don't."

Face looked at Murdock approvingly, but Murdock caught the look and snapped at him, "I'm not agreeing with you, Face. I just want to get the question out in the open."

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, and wondered what had been going on amongst the Team this afternoon, "I'm not sure I understand what you're driving at."

"We have it on reliable authority that the bomb this afternoon was never meant to kill you," Hannibal said, "Can you enlighten us as to the reason he wants you scared, but not dead?"

Murdock was watching her shrewdly, and saw the surprise in her face, though she quickly hid it. She looked at Hannibal directly, "I have no idea," her gaze shifted to Murdock, "Really, I don't know."

After a few minutes of silent, uncomfortable shifting, Hannibal sighed, "Alright, I guess we'll just have to ponder that mystery. Meanwhile, we still need to plan for this mission. Given what we do know, any thoughts on how this scenario will play out?"

Face addressed his comment directly to Nancy, "If there's nothing going on between you and Palumbo, then why the hell would he come to the village?" he asked.

Nancy's face turned red as it dawned on her what the discussions in her absence must have been about, "I assure you, there is no ongoing relationship between Palumbo and myself. I would think that the car bomb would attest to that fact. Beyond that, I fail to see what bearing my relationship with Palumbo, during my time at the hacienda, has on this mission."

"A non-lethal car bomb could be taken a couple different ways, Able 5," Face said scathingly, "After all, you spent an intimate week with Palumbo, in his private quarters. You can't just expect us to trust you're on our side when we go back down there."

"You know, trust goes both ways, Lieutenant," she replied coolly.

"You know a hell of a lot more about me . . . about us, then we know about you," Face said defensively.

"Let's face it," Nancy said, and laughed humorlessly at her own pun, "I could shake hands with Jesus himself and you wouldn't trust me."

"Jesus would shake hands with the devil, to keep him close," Face replied.

"Alright, cool it," Hannibal said sharply, this had to stop. Right now, more than anything else, he saw the animosity between Nancy and Face as the biggest risk to the mission.

Nancy and Face both lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as Hannibal paced agitatedly.

He finally stopped and looked at them, "Frankie, you and Face got the rest of the supplies, right?"

"Yea Johnny, everything's in the van," Frankie said.

"Alright, you four," Hannibal indicated his four men, "Pull the van around and finish loading the plane."

He looked at Murdock, "I'm taking your truck, Captain," he said, and Murdock handed the keys over without protest, "And you're in charge – I want everything double checked and secured this afternoon," he turned, "Nancy, you're with me."

Hannibal led Nancy to the hangar door, where he turned and scanned his men, his gaze landing on his smug-looking Lieutenant, "I don't want any bickering, the Captain's in charge. Get the work done and be back at the Compound by 1800, got it?"

He satisfied himself that they were all nodding the right direction then turned and strode out, with Nancy close behind.

"I'll go get the van," BA said, holding out a hand to Face for the keys.

Face pulled the keys out of his pocket, glancing at the door, "I'd say the Colonel's gonna put Able 5 in her place," he said in satisfaction.

Murdock's look was fuming, but he prudently held his tongue, while Frankie and BA looked anxiously between the two friends than at each other.

Frankie took a deep breath, he wasn't sure he could handle the situation if the tension between Face and Murdock came to a head, "BA, maybe I should come help you," he said uncertainly.

BA pressed the keys into Frankie's hand, "You bring the van 'round, little brother," he said, "I'll stay here and referee. I kin keep these two in line," he crossed his arms and glowered at Face and Murdock.

Heart to Heart 

Nancy followed Hannibal resolutely through to the parking lot, getting into the passenger's side of Murdock's truck. Hannibal started the truck and pulled out of the lot without a word.

Nancy waited uncomfortably for Hannibal to say something. But as the silence stretched, she finally decided to head off the tirade she was anticipating, "Colonel, I promise to try to be less confrontational with Lieutenant Peck, but I'm going to need the same courtesy," she said bluntly, "Every time he opens his mouth, he pisses me off."

"Yea, I've noticed," Hannibal said, his amused expression surprising Nancy, "You know, your problem is that you're way too much alike," he looked at her sideways.

"We are nothing alike," she stated flatly, her eyes flashing.

"You know, kid, against my better judgment, I really like you," Hannibal said, his smile broad, "I don't trust you to be totally honest, but then that's the nature of the beast when you're dealing with spy-types. You tend to be way too practiced at deception for your own good. Unfortunately, part of the talent is being really good at self-deception, and you and Face both got that down pat."

"Now I'm going to give you some friendly advice," he said, looking at her discerningly, "Face hates everything you represent, including Stockwell Enterprises and the General, but more importantly, the wedge that he perceives you're placing between him and his best friend."

Nancy opened her mouth to protest, but Hannibal held up a gloved hand, "Just listen," he said, "You keep your tongue tamed when you're around him, no matter what he says. It'll pass. Face just needs some time to come to grips with it."

"So I'm just supposed to sit by and let him verbally lash me every chance he gets," Nancy said sullenly.

"Yea," Hannibal said, grinning, "Trust me, it'll drive him nuts when you don't respond. Not only that, the rest of the Team will step in. They're pretty good at disciplining each other."

Hannibal looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was accepting his advice without much argument. That, at least, took care of phase one of his plan to get them acting as a Team.

"How are you feeling?" Hannibal asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she responded shortly.

"Do you think you're up for some sparring?"

Nancy looked at Hannibal curiously, "My ass is sore, but sitting on it just makes it worse," she smiled self-consciously, "A little sparring might help . . . don't think it'll hurt."

"Good. I think it might help all the way around if we got a feel, first-hand, for your capabilities," he said, "The General said you're a black belt. I figure that's as good a place to start as any. How about fire arms?"

"I'm a decent shot, but Trix is better," she said, "Most comfortable with my Glock."

"Automatic weaponry experience?"

"Limited," Nancy was feeling like she was being interviewed, "I've been through training, and I know how to handle it, but I don't do it routinely, so a refresher's probably in order."

"Survival?"

Nancy smiled, "I spent the last 14 months in the back country of Columbia," she said, "I can handle myself. But for the record, the big spiders down there really kinda freak me out."

"I'm not a big fan of bugs, myself," Hannibal was smiling too, "How about your stamina?"

Nancy shrugged, "I've been on vacation for the last 6 weeks, so I'm probably not at the top of my game right now," she said honestly.

"Couple rounds through the obstacle course would probably do all of us some good, then," Hannibal said, he smiled, "Maybe we'll even get one in tonight, before supper."

Nancy grimaced and Hannibal chuckled, "Yea, the guys'll love it, too!"

Next, he decided it was time to hear the story from the horses mouth, "Now, what I'd really like to hear straight from you is exactly what happened in Columbia between you and Palumbo. There's gotta be more to it then what was in that report."

Nancy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Hannibal couldn't tell if it was because of her injury this morning, or his question.

"The General probably told you that we were instructed only to observe, not engage. Our job was surveillance and communications – the DEA agents took the role of infiltrating Palumbo's organization."

Nancy paused and Hannibal waited patiently. As he understood, it was disobeying those orders that had gotten Nancy in hot water with the General to begin with.

As if reading his thoughts, she continued, "I did _not_ intentionally disobey that directive," she said earnestly, "We'd been down there over a year and Trix and I had visited the town only a few times, for supplies. Our cover story was that we were missionaries, bringing the gospel to the heathen tribes of the rainforest."

"During a routine sweep of the hacienda perimeter one night, Trixie managed to piss off one of those big-ass spiders and got bit. I did what I could with our first aid supplies and then we headed for town, which was no short jaunt from where we were. Trixie got weaker and sicker as the hours went by, and the wound wasn't closing."

"Poison?" Hannibal asked.

Nancy nodded, "I knew I had to get her to a doctor, but by noon the next day, she couldn't even walk. Luckily, the spider's venom wasn't deadly and there's a Doc that makes a one-week circuit to the little towns in that region of Columbia. The General had managed to make quiet arrangements through the Doctor to remain in the nearest village, and had a couple of local trackers head into the forest to find us and help us out. Even with that help, it took nearly 4 days for us to make it to the village, and by then Trix was in pretty bad shape, and spent the next week in the infirmary," she stopped, unsure how to explain what happened next.

"I, um . . .," she sighed, "When I'm stressed, I need my music. The day after we got to the village, after the Doc said Trixie was out of the woods, I went into town, to the local bar. Guess I had a little too much to drink, and . . .well, I ended up sitting in with a couple local musicians."

Hannibal shrugged, "Sounds harmless enough."

"Yea, probably woulda been except that there were quite a few people there – not normally my scene, but I was pretty wasted," Nancy looked at Hannibal ruefully, "Word spread rather quickly and by the time I had recovered from my hangover, Palumbo had one of his men in town asking about la misionera cantante borracha."

"Misionera cantante borracha . . .," Hannibal said musingly, his Spanish was a little rusty, "The singing missionary . . ."

"The drunken singing missionary," Nancy supplied.

Hannibal chuckled as she continued, "He had an invitation for me to come to the hacienda. Mr. Palumbo wanted a personal audience."

"Couldn't resist, eh?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh, I said 'no'," Nancy said, "Told him to tell Mr. Palumbo that I was very flattered, but not interested in condoning the local drug lord by visiting his hacienda. Seemed like a good, missionary-type thing to say."

"If you said no, then how did you end up . . .,"

Nancy interrupted, "Do you know what it's like to do a long-term surveillance, Colonel?" When Hannibal shook his head, she continued, "For me, it's like living in purgatory. Close enough to get a glimpse into the life, draw some conclusions, form a pretty picture . . . but I had this overwhelming desire to find out how accurate my profile of Palumbo was. Turning down the opportunity once was doable. Avoiding temptation again was impossible."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I had made myself very interesting to Palumbo. I had had the nerve to tell him 'no'."

"The next time his men showed up, they were offering a generous contribution to my missionary work, but I had to come to the hacienda and accept the money in person."

"And this time, you couldn't resist," Hannibal said, nodding in understanding.

"Well, technically speaking, I was sticking to my cover," Nancy said carefully, "after all, what self-respecting missionary would turn down a donation – even if it is from a sleezeball."

"You didn't try that line on the General?"

She shrugged, "It was worth a try."

Hannibal pulled up at the gate to the Compound and Nancy sat forward, recognizing the SUV pulled up next to the gate house, "Joe's here," she said, just as he stepped out of the guardhouse and waved them down.

Hannibal pulled to a stop next to the guardhouse, and Nancy stepped out of the truck, "Joe, is everything alright?"

"Yea, Nan, everything's fine. But mother hen is on high alert," he reached into the back of the SUV and pulled out a guitar case, "She told me to bring this to you."

Nancy took the guitar, looking embarrassed, "Thanks Joe."

Joe was looking past Nancy, and she turned as Hannibal stood out of the truck, "Joe, Colonel Hannibal Smith. Hannibal, this is Trixie's husband, Joe Martin."

"Colonel Smith, it's a pleasure meeting you, sir," Joe said, shaking Hannibal's hand.

"Likewise," Hannibal said, "How's Trixie doing?"

"She's doing pretty good, considering," Joe said, then getting the distinct feeling he was interrupting something between Nancy and Hannibal, he took a step back towards his SUV, "Listen, I should get going. Have a good trip, Colonel. Be careful, Nan."

Amy or Nancy . . . 

At the airfield the plane loading was going slowly. While BA, Face and Frankie ferried supplies in, Murdock stowed and secured them in the cargo hold. BA's surly presence had kept both Murdock and Face in line for the most part and Frankie worked furtively, trying to stay under everyone's radar.

Face walked in with a box of Frankie's equipment, and set it behind Murdock, who promptly turned and tripped over it, "What the . . ." he looked at Face, "Are you trying to kill me?"

Face turned around and looked at Murdock, "No, I'm trying to save you."

Murdock looked at him in exasperation, "I never asked you to save me from anything. I'm a big boy, now, Facey, and I can take care of myself."

"You can, huh?" Face asked, "Then why are you insisting on continuing this mess with her? She as much as admitted there was something between her and Palumbo. You really want to continue a relationship with a woman like that?

"You know, the only Nancy you've seen is Able 5," Murdock said reasonably, "I've seen Nancy Clay, and I gotta tell you, she's an incredible lady. I gotta believe that there's nothing between her and Palumbo, just like she said."

"OK, so maybe there's nothing between them," Face said, "What about you? How do you know you're not just another in a long line of men she's slept with?

Murdock was shaking his head, though his eyes reflected doubt, "No way, we connected. It was . . . incredible. I'm sure she felt the same."

"Jesus, Murdock," Face said in frustration, "Would you listen to yourself? You've known her for less than a week. You don't fall for somebody that fast. Just because the sex was good, doesn't mean you have to make a life-long commitment to her."

"Yea, well, just because a woman doesn't drop into bed with you doesn't mean you should write her off either, Face," Murdock said angrily, "I know sex and love aren't the same thing, but when they go together it's incredible. Maybe you can't understand that, since you've never had sex with a woman you really cared about."

"Oh, that's right, let's start in on how shallow I am, rather than dealing with your issues," Face said angrily, "You spend the weekend with a woman and you're ready to marry her. And as charming as that impulsiveness can be, it's gonna get you into big trouble with this one."

"I'm always in some kinda trouble, and I don't remember mentioning matrimony," Murdock said impatiently, then sighed heavily, "You've been acting as judge and jury, in a hangman's court, Face. All I'm asking is that you give her a chance – talk to her, get to know her, _before_ you decide she's the devil incarnate."

"Alright, I'll make an effort to get to know her," Face capitulated, "But in return I want you to make an effort to detach yourself, and look at the situation impartially."

The two friends looked at each other for a minute, then Murdock held out his hand, "Deal," Face took his hand and sealed the agreement.

"I still say Amy . . . uh, Able 5 is trouble, Murdock," Face said, shaking his head.

Murdock raised an eyebrow, and smiled knowingly at the Freudian slip, "Yea, she is . . . and she is. But we've always liked trouble, haven't we?"

The Rest of the Story 

Hannibal and Nancy rode up to the house in silence. Hannibal led the way into the kitchen, where he asked Nancy what she wanted to drink. Once they each had their beverage, he led the way out onto the deck and dropped into one of the chairs, motioning her to an adjacent one, "Alright, so you accepted the second invitation to Palumbo's hacienda. Then what happened?"

"So, I went," Nancy said nonchalantly, though the look on her face belied the casual tone of her voice, "They dropped me by helicopter, then took off. At that point I was feeling just a little nervous – in the lion's den without a key to the padlock, if you know what I mean."

"Palumbo was quite charming," she continued quietly, "A gracious host to a delicious meal. It was just the two of us at this big long table. It was like something out of Beauty and the Beast. Not that I'm any beauty, but no matter how he behaved, he's definitely a beast."

"And what was the beast expecting in return for his donation?" Hannibal prompted.

"He wanted to help la misionera cantante borracha along the way to a complete fall from grace," Nancy said quietly, looking up at Hannibal she answered the unspoken question, "Oh, he isn't the kind of man who resorts to violence. He wanted me to capitulate willingly – that was the entire point. He wined and dined me all evening, finally putting on some romantic music and turning the lights down. I was behaving like a tipsy school girl, hanging on him and giggling at every lame remark. But when he tried to make his move, I slapped him and told him that I wasn't that kind of girl."

She smiled at Hannibal's snort of amusement, "Cliché, I know, but I had decided early in the evening to go with the prissy virgin front, so it was in keeping with character," she said, "he was very apologetic, and remained the gentleman, gushing some shit about misreading my alcohol-induced languor for romantic interest."

"He left the room about then to take a phone call, which was ostensibly from the chopper pilot, stating that he was having engine trouble and wouldn't be able to make the flight in until morning. So Palumbo generously offered me a room for the night."

"So you were stuck there," Hannibal said, "For how long?"

"One day stretched into a week, with Palumbo getting friendlier all the time," she said, standing and pacing in agitation, "He really turned up the charm after striking out. When I woke up after the first night there was a crystal vase with two dozen roses, one red and one white, with a note apologizing for his behavior after dinner."

"Then he brought me breakfast in bed, personally. Then a long walk in the garden, with an intimate lunch in a secluded grove. The rest of the week was like that, with him saying he'd never met anyone like me and professing his love," Nancy smiled and shook her head, "It was a far cry from how I'd been living for the last year. I guess in a way, I actually kinda enjoyed it."

Her look sobered again as she continued, "But I knew it wasn't real, and I knew that the longer I stayed the less likely it was that I'd walk out of there. Nolan had also been hanging out, more and more at the hacienda, and that was making me very nervous. So I started looking for a way out."

"I could have walked out, but I couldn't just disappear without raising suspicion and ending up with a search party on my tail," she looked at Hannibal, "That's when I got a lucky break. Lorenzo Perez, a rival drug lord, decided to make a move on Palumbo's hacienda. All hell broke loose a week to the day after I had first arrived, and I took the chance, during the chaos, to take off. Freddie told me he'd plant the seed that Perez had kidnapped me. That meant I could make a clean break. But it also meant I'd have to leave the country."

"I made it to the village four days later, where a fully recovered, and fuming Trixie was waiting for me," Nancy shrugged, "Nolan had gotten word out about what was going on. The General had issued the order that we were to return home. By the time we arrived back in Langley, he'd worked up one hell of a temper, which obviously didn't improve after I blew it in front of the DEA brass by voicing my suspicions about Nolan."

Nancy stopped pacing and turned to look directly at Hannibal, "Not a stellar performance on my part, I admit," she said ruefully, "But all in all, it could have been a lot worse."

Hannibal was looking at her shrewdly, and Nancy shifted uneasily under his gaze, "OK, so you basically reiterated what was in your report. What I want to know is, did la misionera cantante borracha fall from grace?"

Nancy's jaw tensed, but she looked at Hannibal directly, "If you're asking whether I slept with Palumbo, the answer is 'yes'. And to be quite honest, it wasn't an unpleasant experience."

Hannibal's eyebrows went up, and Nancy shook her head as she turned away, "Don't even say it, Colonel," she said frostily, "How could I do that? Well, as your lieutenant pointed out, why would Palumbo allow me to stay at the hacienda without getting something in return?"

"I would say that was your biggest error in judgment," Hannibal said flatly, "It certainly calls your motives into question. If Palumbo was your lover . . ."

Nancy swung around, and interrupted Hannibal, "Stop right there," she said emphatically, "Palumbo was not my lover. I had sex with him, yes, but that's it. There was no emotional entanglement, Colonel. Sex is a biological function, nothing more, nothing less. And that's all it was."

Hannibal's look told her that he wasn't buying it, and Nancy started pacing in front of him, "Tell me something, Colonel Smith," she started in a professorial tone, "How many women has Lieutenant Peck had sex with, let's say, since you returned to the states? Ten, 20, 50, 100, maybe even more? Was he emotionally involved with each and every one of those women?"

Nancy crossed her arms and faced Hannibal, "I'd wager that he didn't give a rats ass about a single one of them. Now let me ask you something, why are the rules different for me? Because I'm a woman? You see, when a man is promiscuous, he's considered a player. But for a woman, it's not nearly as fashionable – she's a slut, or a whore."

Nancy dropped into her chair again, slouching disconsolately, "I'm not proud of myself, Colonel, but it's too late to undo it. At the time, it seemed inevitable, and given the situation, I'd probably do it again."

They sat quietly for a moment, then Hannibal abruptly changed the subject, "What made you suspect Nolan as a turncoat?"

Nancy was caught off guard, and began haltingly, "I never said he was a turncoat, per se . . . I said he wasn't trustworthy," she paused uncertainly, "I have a bad habit of profiling just about everyone I work with, Colonel. And the profile I came up with for Nolan made me incredibly nervous, especially in the situation we were in. Given the right circumstances, he would not hesitate to give one of us up, if he thought he could turn it to his advantage. Obviously, when I ended up at the hacienda, I'd put myself in the danger zone. If I'd stayed much longer, I would have been fresh meat – in fact, I'd say I made it out just in time. Freddie wasn't so lucky."

Coming to Terms 

Murdock checked the last item off the inventory, for the second time, "That's it," he said triumphantly, and looked at his watch, "And we'll even make it back to the Compound with some time to spare."

Face dropped into one of the chairs, "If we head back early, you know he's gonna find something else for us to do."

"C'mon, Faceman," BA said, "We don' got a lotta time, and loadin' the plane's the least of our worries, man."

"BA's right," Frankie said, "I wonder why Hannibal has us doing this when we really need to figure out how we're gonna get this mission done."

"To get it out of the way," Murdock said certainly.

"An' 'cause he want to talk to Nancy, alone," BA said, glancing at Face, who put on a sour expression at the mention of her name, "Face ain' makin' this easy – an' we gotta be workin' as a team by the time we head to Columbia."

"_I'm_ not making this easy?" Face exploded, "What about _her_?"

"You're the one that keeps starting it, Face," Murdock said bluntly.

"Murdock's right, Face," Frankie agreed, cautiously, "You _did_ start it."

Face crossed his arms, "I can't believe you guys are siding with the Able agent, over me," he said disbelievingly, "Stockwell's got her on a leash and you really think we should trust her?"

"I trust her," Murdock said flatly, "And if you don't trust her, then you obviously don't trust my judgment."

Murdock turned and walked out of the hangar. As the door slammed behind him, BA turned to Face, "You hurtin' 'im, man. Can't you see that? If the crazy man trusts her, that good 'nough for me."

BA turned and followed Murdock out. Frankie took a deep breath as the door slammed behind BA, "C'mon, Face," he said cajolingly, "You need to lighten up. Nan's not so bad. I mean, BA's right – if Murdock cares about her so much, there's gotta be somethin' there. Don't ya think?"

Hannibal looked at his watch, "We better get dinner started – I got a nice roast thawed. All we need to do is add the vegetables and get it in the oven," he sighed, "I just hate talking in there where the General hangs on every word."

Nancy stood and started into the house, "Don't worry, Colonel, I'll turn the surveillance off," she said, "I don't care to have big brother listening either."

Nancy joined Hannibal in the kitchen a few minutes later and they started peeling potatoes and cutting up carrots and onions to add to the roast.

"So, do you love Murdock?" Hannibal asked suddenly.

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"I believe in getting to the heart of the matter," Hannibal said, smiling, "Life's to short not to take the most direct route."

Nancy concentrated on chopping the onion, her eyes smarting. She wasn't sure she was really ready to _think_ about how she felt about Murdock, let alone _talk_ about it with Colonel Smith.

"Even in silence, our deepest thoughts and desires can be revealed," Hannibal said.

Nancy looked up at Hannibal, and he smiled at her, "You're afraid to admit just how much you care about Murdock, because if you admit it to me, you also have to admit it to yourself. Quite the quandary."

She shifted uncomfortably, "It's just that I think there's a lot we don't know about each other," she said, "I mean, is it really possible to fall in love with someone that you barely know?"

Hannibal looked at her and realized that she wasn't asking a rhetorical question, she was apparently waiting for an answer. That, in and of itself, said an awful lot about her.

"Love at first site," Hannibal said, and smiled, "I don't believe in it. But, I think it's possible to fall in love with someone after only a few days. What do you think?"

"I don't know," Nancy said, "I tend to be a very deliberate person. I don't do things on a whim, and I'm not _usually_ impulsive, especially in my personal life."

Hannibal chuckled, "You and Murdock should be good for each other then. I am a firm believer in the old adage 'opposites attract' – like nature like life. The corollary also explains why you and Face don't get along."

Nancy grimaced, and started peeling potatoes in earnest. She hated to admit it, but she could see where Hannibal was coming from. She understood what motivated Face almost instinctively, which she knew was likely because she shared many of his basic personality characteristics. It made her feel better knowing that Face was Murdock's best friend. He couldn't be all bad, if somebody like Murdock trusted him so completely. Maybe there was some hope for her, too.

She looked at Hannibal sideways, "How about you? Have you ever been in love?"

"Sure, kid," he said easily, "The love of my life is Maggie Sullivan, and I'm really hoping to settle down with her when this is all over. If she waits for me."

BA drove a very sullen and silent group back to the Compound. When they walked in, they found Hannibal and Nancy working on dinner in the kitchen.

Hannibal glanced at the clock as his men trooped in, "You're early, everything set for the trip?" he looked at Murdock expectantly.

"Everything is loaded and double-checked, Colonel," Murdock replied.

"Good," Hannibal said, wiping his hands on a towel, he checked the oven and then clapped his hands together, "We've got about an hour before supper's ready, so I want all of you to head back and get changed for a workout. We're gonna hit the course once through before supper."

The collective groan caused Hannibal to smile broadly, "I knew you'd love it," he said happily, "Let's go. I expect you out on the course in 10 minutes."

Murdock hung back as the rest of them headed back to their rooms to change. Hannibal turned and looked at him questioningly, "Do you need something, Captain?"

"I was just wondering," Murdock started hesitantly, "You know, how things went with Nancy . . ."

"Just fine," Hannibal said, "I feel confident that she's on our side."

When Murdock didn't move, Hannibal hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "We'll talk later, Murdock. Right now, you better get moving or you aren't going to make it to the course on time."

Murdock sighed and jogged back to the bedroom, nearly colliding with Face just inside the door. Face chuckled, almost nervously, while Murdock side-stepped him impatiently.

"C'mon, Murdock," Face said looking at his friend beseechingly, "You aren't going to let some woman come between us, are you?"

"I'm not _letting_ her come between us," Murdock said, dropping his jacket on his bed and pulling a sweatshirt out of his duffle, "The fact is that she's coming with us to Columbia, and like it or not, you're going to have to find a way to get along with her. You promised you'd give her a chance."

"Yea, OK, fine," Face said irritably, folding his shirt and laying it on the end of the bed, "But that doesn't mean I have to like her."

Murdock pulled the sweatshirt over his head, "No, but you are going to have to accept that _I_ like her."

"Great," Face said flatly. They finished changing in silence, then headed out to the start of the obstacle course.

As they approached, they could see Nancy was already there in shorts and a t-shirt, stretching with her back to them.

As she bent to touch her toes, Face raised an eyebrow, and nudged Murdock, "Well, now, she looks a lot different out of the Able uniform," he said approvingly, "If I could ignore the rest of the package, I might start to understand what attracted you to her."

Murdock looked at his friend and shook his head with a small smile, "Face, you know, Nan's intelligent, she has a great sense of humor, and we have a lot in common . . .," he said, then he glanced back as Nancy stretch her arms up, baring her midriff, and sighed audibly.

"Yea, I know, you love her for her brains not her body," Face said, then smiled teasingly, "But don't tell me you don't notice the body."

Murdock and Face were both laughing as they walked up beside Nancy. She glanced at Face uneasily, but Murdock gave her an encouraging smile, and she felt herself relax.

"Been awhile since you ran this course," Face said to Murdock, as he stretched, "Gonna be doin' dishes tonight, buddy."

"You wish," Murdock said, "I may not have been running the course, but them turkey's are great trainers."

Face glanced at Nancy, "How 'bout you, Nancy?" he asked with forced friendliness, "You ever run this course?"

"Yea, but it's been a few years," she said quietly, "You run to see who does dishes?"

"That's the most likely chore for the losers tonight," Murdock said.

Hannibal approached with BA and Frankie, pleased to see the friendly, if strained banter, rather than the arguing for a change, and took it as a good sign.

"Alright, last two in do the dishes tonight . . .," Hannibal started.

"Told ya," Murdock said.

"Hope you brought your Dawn, Murdock," Face said in challenge.

"I'll probably be the one with dishpan hands," Nancy said with a sigh.

"Ready," Hannibal said, "Go!"

Nancy knew she'd have trouble with the first part of the course, which required a lot of upper body strength, but she managed to get through, with some encouragement from Murdock and BA. She made up some ground on the flat run, and held her own through the rest of the course, but still ended last, if only a few seconds behind Murdock, who she suspected had held back on her account.

"Nancy, Murdock, you got dishes tonight," Hannibal said matter-of-factly, "Good run, all of you. We'll do it again in the morning. Hit the showers."

Dinner was uneventful, no arguments, and only sparse conversation, but overall fairly friendly. Everyone cleared their dishes, and Nancy and Murdock set to work on cleaning up, while Hannibal herded the rest of them into the living room to relax for awhile.

Nancy filled the sink with soapy water, and started scrubbing dishes, while Murdock put the food away in the refrigerator. When he'd finished he turned and watched as Nancy rinsed a pile of plates and stacked them in the drainer.

She turned and raised an eyebrow at him, "This isn't a spectator sport . . ." she said good-naturedly, throwing a dish towel at him.

He smiled and walked forward, catching the towel, then catching her hand, "I think you are a terrific spectator sport," he said suggestively.

"Down, Captain," Nancy said, pulling her hand away, she pointed to the dishes in the drainer, "Get to work."

Murdock picked up a plate and started drying, "So, when we get back from Columbia . . .," he said leadingly.

"We can talk," Nancy said quietly, "For all the good it'll do. There's a lot you don't know . . . we don't know about each other."

"Man, Joe wasn't kidding," Murdock muttered, "You do have more wall than China."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I better start chipping away every chance I get or I'll be an old man before I make it through," he said glibly.

Nancy turned and looked him, "You know, you were the one who said it was over, not me," she said flatly.

"And I admitted that that was a mistake," he countered reasonably.

"So I'm just supposed to jump back into your arms, just like that?"

"That would be nice."

"Fat chance, flyboy. Your best friend hates my guts, your commanding officer says he doesn't trust me, and I work for a man you hate. Did I leave anything out?"

"With you, it's kinda hard to tell," Murdock said flippantly, "Did you?"

Nancy stopped short, "Well . . ."

He turned and looked at her disbelievingly, it _had been_ a rhetorical question, "What now?"

Nancy took a deep breath, now was her chance to take Jeff's advice.

"I'm . . ." she hesitated, "I mean the General . . . well . . ."

"What about the General?" Murdock prodded.

Nancy's eyes searched his for a moment, then she looked back down into the sink, picking up another dish, "He has a strict policy against coworker relationships," she said lamely.

Murdock shrugged, "Yeah, I'm sure he does. But technically speaking, _I _don't work for him," he grinned at her, "You're gonna have to come up with somethin' better than that if you're gonna throw me off, Short Cake."

Nancy opened her mouth, but closed it a second later without uttering a word. She just wasn't ready to open that can of worms, yet.

Midnight Tryst 

Nancy had been lying in bed trying to get her mind to shut down so she could fall asleep. She looked at the clock, and sighed. It was now midnight, and she'd been lying there wide awake for over an hour. What if she had told Murdock that the General was her uncle? She had been going through alternate scenes in her head, with Murdock's reaction ranging from amused resignation, to shocked outrage. She honestly couldn't figure out how he would react, which she told herself was why she hadn't told him, yet.

She finally swung her legs out of bed and stood up. She quickly pulled on some clothes, grabbed her guitar, and walked out the sliding door. She headed straight across the deck and out towards the obstacle course. At the high platform, she slung the guitar over her shoulder and pulled herself up the rope. She sat with her legs dangling over the side, looking out over the compound grounds, and strumming aimless tunes on her guitar, trying to make some order out of her chaotic thoughts.

Murdock walked out on the back deck and dropped into one of the lounge chairs. Long after Face's breathing had indicated he was asleep, he'd lain there thinking . . . well, perhaps obsessing would be a better word, about Nancy and their relationship. Unfortunately, calling it a relationship, at this point was a real leap of faith.

As he was sitting there, he thought he heard a radio playing, in the distance, but it was coming from the obstacle course. Looking in that direction, he caught movement up on the high platform, and smiled to himself. It wasn't a radio he was hearing. Obviously someone else was having as much trouble sleeping as he was. Maybe that was a good sign.

Murdock pulled himself up on the platform silently. Nancy's back was to him, she had been strumming randomly, but slowly settled into a tune and began singing a Shawn Colvin tune:

_You'll wander around_  
_And it won't be the same_  
_All the signs will be down_  
_And it's starting to rain out_  
_It's a lonely place_  
_That you've brought it to now_  
_Oh,_ _you wanted to love_  
_You didn't know how but_  
_There will always be something to believe in . . ._

The song wasn't flowing and her voice sounded strained. She abruptly stopped, slipping again into random strumming, before settling into another Shawn Colvin song that seemed to suit her mood better:

_I've been sleeping fair  
Lately I could swear I'm thinking  
clearer and clearer  
And I've been working hard  
Looking at my punch card and  
my mirror, my mirror  
But I daydream in my room  
I'm baying at the moon  
Ricochet in time to the the music  
You just pick a day and I'm in  
a new destination_

I take too many planes  
I know too many names and I  
forget them  
I wanted to know if dreams  
would lie  
You said they would try and I  
said let them  
You just let them  
But I kill dreams in the chase  
I slap love in the face  
Ricochet in time to the music  
You just pick a day and I'm in  
a new destination

I crawled up from the sewer  
For something that was truer  
than I intended  
I ended up on my knees  
In this big city I was befriended  
I transcended  
But I bruise my friends for more  
I rail at heaven's door  
Ricochet in time to the music  
You just pick a day and I'm in  
a new destination

Murdock was struck again by the talent that Nancy was so loathe to share. But, he was beginning to feel guilty standing here, and decided it was past time to alert her to his present. He started clapping, and Nancy practically jumped off the platform in surprise.

"Sorry," he said as he walked across the platform, "Having trouble sleeping?"

Nancy spared him a sideways glance, "No, I wander around in the middle of the night for fun," she said sarcastically, "Exactly how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Murdock said vaguely.

She ran an agitated hand back through her hand, "Well, I came up here for some privacy, so you can go away anytime."

"Can't seem to do that," Murdock responded, dropping down next to her.

"And why is that, if you don't mind my asking?"

Murdock looked at her intently, "I love you, Nan," he said quietly.

Nancy shook her head in disbelief, "How can you know that? You've known me for less than a week."

"It's not the quantity of time, it's the quality," he assured her with a smile.

"How very cliché of you."

"I've got more . . . how about, 'we were meant to be together'," he glanced at her, noting the raised eyebrow, he tried another, "Don't like that one, either? Here's another one: 'we go together like shalawala wala bindinkity binky bop.'"

Nancy smiled spontaneously, shaking her head. Slowly, her smile faded, and staring fixedly out over the compound, she asked, "So, you don't care what happened with Palumbo?"

Murdock looked at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, "I guess it would be more accurate to say that I'm not upset about what happened with Palumbo," he said cautiously, "I do, however, have a question . . ."

Nancy waited expectantly, but Murdock was having trouble framing his question. He blew out his cheeks, took a deep breath, and plunged ahead, "Was I just a notch on you bedpost?"

She registered surprise, but steadfastly refused to look at him, this time gazing ruminatively up at the sky full of stars. She smiled bemusedly, "If I just said 'yes', would it be over?"

Murdock looked at her curiously, "Are you asking me?"

"It's not like you were my first . . ."

"I didn't think I was," he said, "But I did think we had something . . . something real special. Was I delusional?"

Nancy's eye snapped to his face, and Murdock managed to catch her eyes, holding her gaze intently, "Was I?" he pressed.

"No," she finally admitted grudgingly, then her shoulders slumped in defeat, "In the end, I guess that's the real problem."

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me," Murdock said, his spirits lifting considerably.

"_That_ is because there is still a lot you don't know," Nancy said with conviction.

"I'm willing to chance it," Murdock said, "I've managed to weather everything you've thrown at me so far."

"Tropical weather," Nancy said forebodingly, "The hurricane is yet to come."

"C'mon, it can't be all that bad," he said disbelievingly, "I think things are definitely looking up as far as you and I are concerned. Face is showing signs of defrosting, Hannibal says he's confident you're on our side, and you've admitted that," Murdock's gaze was introverted, and quizzical, "Well, in a roundabout way you admitted that you care about me. I'll take what I can get."

"Face is defrosting?" Nancy asked incredulously, "How do you figure? From where I'm sitting, however you cut it, Face doesn't like me, and I doubt that's going to change."

"Face is just seeing a little too much of his own problematic relationship in ours," Murdock said, "I think Face's animosity towards you has more to do with his frustration with Amy than anything else."

"Who's Amy?"

"Amy Amanda Allen," Nancy recognized the byline that used to accompany the A-Team news routinely, "She's the one woman that Face found attractive, but who steadfastly refused to hop into bed with him."

"You are a hopeless romantic," Nancy said with a shake of her head, "Face dislikes me, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I'll bet you . . .," Murdock thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers and grinned at her, "I'll bet you a personal Nancy Clay concert, that you and Face are best of friends by the time we come back from Columbia."

"That's a safe bet, HM," she said certainly.

"Yea, in my favor," he agreed, still grinning.

Nancy shook her head, reflecting his smile, "You're on."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. The night air was cooling, and the humidity from the day was beginning to condense, making everything feel damp. Nancy finally reached back and picked up her guitar, "We should really head into bed," she said standing up.

Murdock's face lit up, "I like the sound of that."

Nancy looked down at him admonishingly, "Our own, separate beds – to sleep."

"Oh," his face fell, "You're no fun at all!"

A few minutes later they were walking up onto the back deck, side by side. The end of Hannibal's cigar flared brightly for a moment, revealing his presence before his voice floated out to them, "And what have you two been up to?"

"Just talking," Nancy blurted, and Murdock suppressed a smile. Hannibal obviously made her nervous.

"Talking, eh?" Hannibal said disbelievingly. He let them stew for a minute, then took his cigar out of his mouth and pointed it at Nancy, "Head to bed, Able 5, and stay there. No more nocturnal rendezvous' – understood?" Nancy nodded, as Hannibal turned to Murdock, "Captain, you can have a seat, we have some things to discuss."

As Nancy disappeared into the house, Murdock took a seat on the deck chair next to Hannibal, "Colonel, really, nothing happened. We were just talking."

"And how did that go?" Hannibal asked, relaxing back into his chair and taking a long drag on his cigar.

Murdock sighed heavily, "I honestly don't know," he said, "Sometimes I'd swear I'm getting through, and the next minute she's erecting another barrier."

"Seems to me she's awful high maintenance, Murdock," Hannibal said uncertainly.

"Yea, but I think she's worth it," he said, smiling slightly, "Besides, I gotta believe that once we get through this, and she realizes that there's nothing that's gonna turn me off, she'll stop pushing so hard and just accept it."

Hannibal shook his head, "You've always gotta have a challenge, huh kid? Well, you got your work cut out for you," he clapped Murdock on the shoulder, "But if it's really what you want, I'm pullin' for ya."

Hannibal stood, and looked down at Murdock, teeth locked on his stump of a cigar, "However, you will wait until after Columbia. You have a very odd effect on that young woman, and I need her at the top of her game. So hands off until the mission is complete, understood?"

Murdock averted his eyes, "Yes, sir."

Hannibal nodded in acceptance, "OK, now head back in and get some shuteye. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Nancy had slipped back into bed, but sleep was still elusive as she considered her conversation with Murdock. She knew he was right, she couldn't walk away now, any more than he could. But she also knew that there was no way she was going to be the cause of any more strife between the General and the Team. That meant finding a way to short-circuit the deal the General had made with them for their pardons. That was the only way that she and Murdock could be together without worrying about the affect it had on the people that he cared about.

Looking Ahead 

The next morning dawned hazy and muggy, and Hannibal had them assemble on the obstacle course first thing, "There's sausage gravy and biscuits waiting at the end of the course. Ready, set, go!"

It was a repeat of the night before, though Face wasn't quite as far out in front this morning. At the end of the course, Hannibal clapped his hands, "Good job. This morning, Face and Frankie have the dishes . . ."

Face and Frankie started protesting, but Hannibal cut them off, "After breakfast, we head into the records room to work on strategy. Then we'll do some sparring and target practice. For now, hit the showers."

Forty-five minutes later they were assembled around the dining room table digging into sausage gravy and biscuits, with fruit and jam on the side.

"Little heavy on the carbs before a workout, isn't it, Colonel?" Face asked.

Hannibal shrugged, "I thought it sounded good, and you don't have to eat the biscuits if you don't want. There's plenty of fruit."

Nancy finished a light breakfast, feeling a little too keyed up to eat much, and stood. Picking up her dishes she excused herself, "I want to give Trix a call and check up on her."

Hannibal nodded, "OK, but be back in the records room in 15 minutes."

Nancy let herself into the General's office and closed the door. She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, then picked up the phone and dialed Trixie's hospital room.

Trixie answered on the first ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, Trix," Nancy said, "How're you feeling?"

"Well, I'm sore, but I am dressed and more than ready to go home. Overall, I'd say we were both pretty lucky," Trixie said, "Listen, Nan, about yesterday, I'm sorry. Of all people, I should know better than to push you like that. How are things going with the Team?"

"It's OK, Trix. To be honest, you and Joe are both . . . well you both have a point," Nancy said, "Things with the team are going OK. Face still dislikes me, but at least he's tolerating my presence now."

"And how are you and HM getting along?"

"I think we've come to a mutually agreeable stand-off for the moment," Nancy said, thoughtfully, "He says he feels pretty good about us. I told him there's a lot he doesn't know, but it just doesn't seem to phase him. It doesn't matter right now, anyway, 'cause everything is on hold until after the mission."

Trixie laughed, "HM really doesn't know what he's getting himself into, does he?"

"Not a clue," Nancy said, "Listen, Trix, that's kinda why I called."

"Uh oh, here it comes."

"I know you're no longer my partner, but do you think you have it in your heart to do some leg work for me while I'm gone?"

"I'm probably going to regret this, but what the hell," Trixie said, "What do you need?"

"I want you to track down contact info for a few people for me. I also need you to touch base with Casey, see if he has any insight into the pardon realm for the Team. I know the CIA has used their services in the past, so I'm hoping Casey has an inside name on who, on the government end, is holding the reigns, and what the prospects are."

"And the goal of all this would be what?" Trixie asked.

"I want to have those pardons in hand as soon after we get back from Columbia as possible. Anything you can do to that end would be helpful," Nancy said.

"OoohhKaaayyy . . .," Trixie said, "But why?"

"Because . . .," Nancy pursed her lips, knowing that Trixie would see through a lie in a minute, "Because I don't want the General finding out about me and Murdock until the pardons are secured and I have a feeling that it's going to be difficult to keep under wraps once we're back."

"You are hooked, my friend," Trixie said happily, "Give me whatcha got, and I'll get started."

"All I really have are names," Nancy said, adding teasingly, "I wouldn't want to make it too easy for you."

"Smartass!"

The Plan 

Hannibal was pacing at the front of the room, chewing thoughtfully on an unlit cigar when Nancy walked into the records room. She sat on the edge of a low file cabinet in the corner, watching surreptitiously as the rest of the team gathered.

BA came in first and sat at the table watching the Colonel walk back and forth. After a few minutes, he tired of Hannibal's pacing and barked at him, "Hannibal, sit, you makin' me crazy."

Murdock entered in time to hear him, "Nice to hear you're finally joinin' me, brother," he said cheerfully, to which BA just growled.

Hannibal stopped his pacing suddenly and grinned at no one in particular, "I've got it," he said, his eyes glinting.

"Man, he's on the jazz," BA groaned, just as Frankie walked into the room.

"What's the plan, Johnny?" Frankie asked, almost gleefully.

"Where's Face?" Hannibal asked.

As if on cue, Face came jogging in, "Right here," he said, dropping into an empty chair, "Did I miss anything?"

"Hannibal's on the jazz," BA muttered.

"C'mon, BA," Murdock chided, "I'd think you'd be used to it by now."

The anticipation seemed to be contagious, as Face sat forward, "You figured out an angle, Hannibal?"

Hannibal crossed his arms and faced the assembly with a wide grin, "Not just a rogue agent . . . a rogue team," he said triumphantly, "The General feeds Larimer the story that the A-Team got tired of waiting for their pardons . . ."

"Hardly a story," Face snorted.

Hannibal gave Face an impatient glare and continued, ". . . and have accompanied Nancy Clay to Columbia, planning to work the drug trade to finance their retirement to Aruba."

"Ah, Hannibal, Aruba?" Murdock said in mock disappointment, "I was hoping to retire to someplace less glitzy, like Greece."

"Too far," Face disagreed, "Besides I like glitz, and I hear Buenos Aires is the hot spot for US fugitives these days."

"Better check the extradition laws before planning your retirement, gentlemen," Nancy said quietly, "Columbia may actually be a good choice, particularly if you align with a popular 'philanthropist' like Palumbo."

Hannibal looked at Nancy, "How do you think Palumbo will react?"

"I think there's a fair chance Palumbo will buy it. But I would be very interested to know what your exit plan is."

"That may be a good angle, that way we could stay in the background," Hannibal's look was introspective for a moment, then he glanced over at Murdock, who had become very still, "As for exit strategy, I thought Murdock and Frankie could rally the troops."

"Perez," Murdock stated.

Hannibal nodded.

"Let me get this straight," Frankie said incredulously, "While you, BA, Face and Nancy go to Palumbo, Murdock and I are supposed to go to Perez and convince him to raid Palumbo's hacienda . . . again."

"That's the basic idea," Hannibal said, "Though we still need to work out the specifics . . ."

"And once the party's started, we do what?" Face asked.

"We make our exit," Hannibal said calmly, "Perez doesn't care about Nancy, and he'll be happy to have us take his arch rival out of the picture, and certainly isn't going to want a couple DEA agents hanging around – it's perfect."

"And why, pray tell, would Perez not just kill all of us?" Face asked.

"'Cause," Hannibal said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and smiling, "We're nice guys."

"Exactly how are Frankie and I supposed to convince Perez to attack the hacienda for the second time in less than two months?" Murdock asked.

"Tell him the truth," Hannibal said.

"He's gonna think we're nuts," Frankie said.

"And he'd be right," BA said flatly.

They spent the next two hours working out the particulars of the plan, though they couldn't come to consensus on Nancy's role. At noon, they ate a lunch of cold cut sandwiches and fruit, with still no resolution of this one major issue.

As they left the dining room, headed to take a well-deserved break, as Hannibal had ordered, Hannibal tapped Murdock on the shoulder and motioned him out onto the rear deck.

"What is it, Colonel?" he asked curiously as Hannibal leaned against the railing.

Hannibal was chewing agitatedly on his cigar, "I just want to make sure that you're going to be alright with this plan. You of all people have to have a clear head when this thing starts to roll. You and Frankie are our exit plan – without you, we're sunk."

"I'm ready, Colonel," Murdock said positively, "Frankie and I won't let you down . . ."

"But you're worried about Nancy," Hannibal looked at Murdock perceptively as he shrugged noncommittally, "OK, then, what's bothering you?"

"I am worried about Nancy, but . . . I think we need to look at this whole thing from Palumbo's perspective," Murdock said thoughtfully, "Particularly where she's concerned. I think he was expecting, maybe even banking, on her coming back to Columbia."

Nancy watched the two men move out onto the deck, then headed down to the General's office, where she went in and closed the door. She walked directly to the sliding door behind the desk, and opened it quietly. She had to know what they were talking about. Hannibal was being stubborn about having her role well-defined, but she had a nagging suspicion that she was missing something in her profile of Palumbo. The whole thing wasn't playing out like she expected, and that made her very nervous about the mission.

She slipped silently through the door, leaving it ajar, as she moved to the corner of the house, where she could hear the on-going conversation on the deck.

"Palumbo wants us to come down to Columbia?" Hannibal asked.

"Not us, Hannibal, this has everything to do with Nancy," Murdock said, his thoughts finally coalescing, "It just seems strange that the car bomb was just a warning, never meant to kill anyone, just send a message."

"So, Palumbo wanted Nancy to know he was coming," Hannibal surmised, while around the corner, Nancy nodded in tacit agreement.

"No, I don't think that's it at all," Murdock said, "The other thing that has stuck in my head was your observation, that I should understand Nancy's motivation to go to Columbia and meet Palumbo on his own turf."

"You're losing me Murdock," Hannibal said, and again Nancy had to agree.

"Think about it, Colonel," he responded earnestly, "Palumbo didn't get where he is without being able to read people. It's gotta bug the hell out of him that Nancy so thoroughly fooled him. Add to that the fact that Nolan has jumped the fence, and most certainly given Palumbo a much clearer, if biased, picture of who Nancy Ruby Clay really is . . ."

Nancy did a mental head slap as Hannibal shifted impatiently, "What are you getting at?"

"Palumbo, with Nolan's help, knew that the surest way to get Nancy to Columbia was to throw an unknown threat at her. Ultimately, that's what he wants, is Nancy to come to Columbia."

Hannibal shook his head, "Why? So he can kill her on his own turf? Make an example of her?"

Murdock shrugged, "I don't know, seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to . . ."

Nancy walked around the corner of the house, making her presence known, "That's what I've been missing . . ." she said thoughtfully.

Hannibal and Murdock both looked at her, "You make a habit of listening in on other peoples' conversations?" Hannibal asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Nancy said quietly, "Especially when I think that the topic of the conversation might be me."

Hannibal chuckled, as Murdock shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked his head in amusement.

Hannibal crossed his arms, "So, what, exactly, have you been missing?"

"Nolan. HM is absolutely right, Nolan is the one who's been coloring Palumbo's picture of me," Nancy began pacing, her thoughts whirling as she incorporated this information into the mix, "I was always very closed around Nolan, so how would he view me? What would he tell Palumbo about me?"

She turned and headed back towards the General's office, "I've gotta call Trix," she said as she disappeared around the corner of the house again.

Murdock laughed and looked at a dumbfounded Hannibal, "Glad I could help. Are we done, Colonel?"

Hannibal nodded, as Murdock disappeared into the house. Hannibal walked over to a deck chair and dropped into it. There was no point in pursuing Nancy's line of thought right now. He knew she needed time to fully integrate the new information into her profile of Palumbo. Murdock seemed content to have shaken her out of her complacency about the mission, though he had a feeling that it was far from complacency. Nancy had given every indication during their discussions that she was indifferent to the tact her role would take, but Hannibal had the distinct impression that her indifference was really a cover for uncertainty. Murdock's insight had helped to end, or at least minimize, that uncertainty. But that still left Hannibal wondering, why would Palumbo want Nancy to come back to Columbia?

Nancy caught up with Trixie at home, where Joe was playing mother hen for a change, and Trixie was already getting tired of it, "Nan, you gotta come rescue me from my over-protective husband," she pleaded.

"Sorry, partner," Nancy said, then corrected herself, "I mean, ex-partner, you're on your own."

"So, checking up on me already?" Trixie asked teasingly, "I only got your assignment a couple hours ago."

"Actually, I'm calling about something else," Nancy said, "The time we spent with Nolan, before he and Freddie went under. What do you think Nolan's impressions would have been of me?"

"That's an interesting question," Trixie said ruminatively, "Mind if I ask, why are you asking?"

Nancy gave Trixie a brief rundown on the conversation she'd just left, "So, what do you think?"

"Well, we didn't really spend a lot of time with him and Freddie ahead of time," Trixie said thoughtfully, "And you were pretty quiet, especially when Nolan was around."

Nancy nodded, "That's because he gave me the creeps," she said honestly, "Remember that first night, he was asking us what kinda take-home pay we had and kept asking how we ended up with Stockwell Enterprises . . ."

"Oh, yeah," Trixie said in recollection, "He was really ticked off because he'd just figured out that he couldn't take the early buy out, and he wasn't looking forward to desk jockey work. Wasn't that the gist of it?"

"Yea, but he was really obsessing about the money," Nancy said, "After you and Freddie went to sleep, he told me that it wasn't right, he and Fred had to take all the risks, and you and I got to coast in the background and rake in the big bucks."

"He definitely had a chip on his shoulder," Trixie agreed, "How did you respond?"

Nancy was quiet for a minute, "I guess, in a way, I kinda agreed with him, though I wasn't buying the whole story. I mean, c'mon, those DEA field guys make decent money. But I played along, I told him that he could always leave the DEA and go into private practice . . ."

"How very diplomatic of you," Trixie said.

I told him that there should be a lot of options out there for someone with his kind of experience," she concluded.

"And . . .?"

"You know, he told me that he was keeping an eye out for the right opportunity," Nancy said with a mirthless laugh, "Talk about foreshadowing."

"So, Nolan probably thinks you're at least sympathetic to his situation," Trixie said ruminatively, "But would his impression have been of someone loyal to her outfit?"

"During that same conversation, I think I may have let loose with some of the angst between me and the General," Nancy said, "If you'll recall, it wasn't long after he'd laid into me about my tardiness to mission briefings."

"As _I_ recall, that particular balling out was for getting too friendly with that DEA head at the wine tasting the night before," Trixie corrected.

"Oh, yea," Nancy said quietly, she had forgotten about that, but then wine always had gone straight to her head. She sighed, "Well, anyway, Nolan probably had the definite impression that I didn't get along with my boss."

"And he would be right," Trixie said.

Going Too Spar 

When Nancy walked into the recreation room, which had been converted into a mini-gym, the Team had already assembled. They were lounging around, talking quietly.

When Hannibal caught sight of Nancy, he clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention, "Alright, let's do some sparring," he said, "Frankie and Nancy, you're up first."

Nancy took a deep breath and faced Frankie uncertainly. She was dwarfed by everyone on the Team, but Frankie was the most comparable to her in size. She realized that Frankie was equally nervous, and smiled consolingly, "You drew the short straw, huh?"

Frankie grinned, "I'm really more of a lover than a fighter, myself . . ."

Hannibal appeared at Frankie's shoulder, "Yea kid, but you've been improving over the last year," glancing at Nancy, he smiled, "Straight hand to hand. Anything goes, just try not to hurt each other . . . too much."

"Frankie, you're on the offensive," Hannibal ordered, stepping back, "Go!"

Frank looked at Nancy apologetically, as she immediately took up a defensive posture. They circled one another for a few seconds, before Frankie made a direct frontal attack, that Nancy easily side stepped, using his own momentum to push him through and to the floor.

Frankie pushed himself up, and began circling her again. His next attack came in low, and he managed to catch her around the waist, lifting her up over his shoulder. He came up triumphantly, but his victory was short lived. He had loosened his grip as he came up, and Nancy slid over his shoulder, pulling him down backwards as she tucked and rolled. Frankie landed flat on his back with a thud.

"Awe, Frankie, c'mon," Face said, "Pay attention."

"Alright, Face," Hannibal said, "Why don't you show Frankie how it's done."

Nancy stood up and turned to Face, again taking up a defensive stance. Face threw Hannibal an irritated glance before beginning to circle her. His movements were much more practiced and fluid than Frankie's and Nancy watched him warily. When Face made his move, he grabbed her arm, and twisted it around behind her, placing his other arm around her neck.

He smiled at Hannibal smugly, but was taken by surprise when Nancy stomped back roughly on his instep, which caused him to loose his grip on the arm he had pinned behind her back. She took advantage of that and her short stature, grabbing the arm around her neck, and leaning down forcefully, rolling Face over her shoulder. He landed with a resounding 'umph' looking up at her in surprise.

"C'mon, Face," Nancy said goadingly, "pay attention. After all, I'm just a girl."

Hannibal grinned, and Face jumped to his feet and began circling her again. Only this time, Nancy didn't wait for him to attack. She rushed him, but Face was ready and caught her across the chest, slamming her down on the floor, landing with an arm across her, holding her down, "Weak," Face said derisively.

Nancy took a deep breath, then shoulder-rolled, coming to a crouch beside a still-prone Face, "Perhaps . . ." she capitulated, as Face pushed himself up on an elbow. They considered each other silently for a moment, then Nancy laced both hands behind his neck, which definitely caught Face off-guard. She smiled at the shocked look on his face, before pulling him up, putting a foot in his chest and rolling him over her, slamming him on his back. She then arched herself up to her feet and turned to look at Face, ". . . but that wasn't."

She stood over him, and he reached back, grabbing her feet and pulling them out from under her. Nancy landed roughly on her tail bone, and laid back and groaned, "That hurt," she admitted through gritted teeth.

Murdock and Hannibal hurried over and joined a now apologetic Face, holding a hand out to Nancy. Nancy looked at Face calculatingly for a minute before taking the offered hand, and allowing him to pull her up.

Hannibal took her other arm and led her to a chair, with Murdock hovering in the background. Nancy thanked him, but refused, "Honestly, the last thing I really want to do is sit down," she said, waving them all away.

"I'm sorry," Face said sincerely.

"It's OK," she said, smiling at Face, "Sparring probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done today."

"My fault," Hannibal said, "We'll call the sparring for today. How about we head out to the firing range and spend some time reorienting Nancy with automatic weaponry. Think you'll be ready in half an hour?" He looked at Nancy questioningly.

"Half an hour should be fine, Colonel," Nancy said, gratefully heading to her room. Right now she just wanted to lay down and nurse her aching tail bone for a few minutes.

Murdock followed Face into the room they were sharing, and looked at him discerningly, "So, were you taking it easy on her?"

Face turned and looked at Murdock in surprise, "Hell no, I wanted to take her down a notch," he grinned at his friend, "You know, she could probably give you some pointers on hand to hand, HM. But then maybe she already has, huh buddy?" Face looked at Murdock suggestively.

Murdock shook his head and smiled. Face was coming around.

After the firing range practice, they spent another couple hours discussing strategy. Nancy filled them in on the conclusions she and Trixie had reached. It didn't help a whole lot, as Palumbo's motivation for wanting Nancy in Columbia still seemed to elude them. In the end they decided to leave Nancy's role loose, and play it by ear.

Hannibal called for an early bedtime. Hannibal, Face, BA and Nancy would leave early in the morning, with the cargo plane. Murdock and Frankie would follow 6 hours later in a smaller craft.

To Columbia 

The next morning, they woke early as planned. After breakfast, Murdock and Frankie accompanied them to the airfield, and helped get the personal supplies and baggage loaded. Murdock went up to the cock pit to help Nancy go through the pre-flight.

Hannibal poked his head in as they were finishing up, "Are we ready to roll?"

"All set, Colonel," Nancy said, "Is everything secure?"

"We're set back here," Hannibal said, then turned to Murdock, "That's your cue, Captain."

"Just need to say goodbye, Hannibal," Murdock said, standing.

Hannibal smiled, "In 5 minutes we need to be in the air, so make it quick," he said, before ducking out to give them some privacy.

Nancy licked her lips uncertainly, slid the headphones off her head, and stood up to face him, "Please be careful, HM," she said earnestly, "Perez is younger then Palumbo, and not as bound by tradition. He's known to be unstable, with a violent temper . . .," Nancy had offered the same information at least twice before.

"Frankie and I will be fine," he interrupted, "We'll see you in a couple days."

Nancy looked up at him, and after a moment of hesitation, Murdock cupped her face in his hands and kissed her soundly, then looked in her eyes, "I love you, Nancy Ruby Clay – don't you forget it."

Nancy smiled, allowing her guard to fall completely, "I love you, too, HM Murdock."

He smiled happily, gave her one last kiss goodbye and ducked out of the cock pit.


	3. Part III

Well, sorry it's taken so long, but here's Part III. Hope you find it was worth the wait. Hopefully the finale won't take quite so long to finish.

Please R&R – I really appreciate the feedback, and the action scenes are the hardest part for me to write. Any constructive criticism welcome. Thanks!

An Able Beginning with a Relative Twist – Part III In Flight Entertainment 

They had been in the air an hour and were at cruising altitude. Nancy checked all the instruments, flipped on the autopilot, and sat back, watching the clouds roll by. She had actually said 'I love you' to Murdock. She shook her head, but a slight smile lingered around her lips as she replayed the last few minutes before taxiing down the runway in Langley. There was no turning back, now, which somehow gave her a sense of calm and purpose. Trixie had given her an update late last night, and she smirked as she thought of her personable and persuasive partner . . . make that ex-partner, working her way through the government agencies laying the groundwork for her pardon negotiations.

Unfortunately, Nancy knew that was the easy part. Her Uncle was going to be the problem. She wondered idly what it would take to let her negotiate the pardons. In the General's eyes, just how far the team was from earning them? She was going to have to figure out how to convince him that they already had.

Almost unconsciously, she reached back and picked up her guitar, which she had personally stowed nearby. After checking the instruments one more time, she settled back, and began strumming, the tune as random and methodical as her thoughts.

Face glanced around the cabin. BA was out like a light, having chosen to take a sedative, 'just to take the edge off.' Hannibal, on the other hand was wide awake. He managed to catch the Colonel's eye, "Do you hear that?"

Hannibal nodded, "She broke out the guitar. I think it's a form of stress relief for her."

Face listened intently for a moment, "She's not bad," he admitted, then turned to Hannibal again, "Did you see the smile on Murdock's face when he left the plane?"

"Couldn't miss it," Hannibal said, chuckling, "Would seem he and Able 5 have come to grips with the relationship issue."

Face sat back disconsolately, "At least for the moment."

Hannibal turned a calculating gaze on Face, "If it makes Murdock happy, why do you care?"

"I just don't want to see him get hurt, Hannibal," Face said, earnestly, "And if she's so much like me . . . well, I guess I'm afraid that it's inevitable."

"Are you saying that you're incapable of falling in love with someone?"

Face didn't answer, stubbornly refusing to meet Hannibal's steady gaze. The truth was that he had mulled that particular question over in some detail over the last year, coming to the conclusion that it had less to do with being incapable of falling in love, and more to do with being incapable of accepting that you were.

Hannibal looked at Face shrewdly, and finally answered his silence, "You know, perhaps you should just go and talk to Nancy – you might find that you could learn a few things from her . . . maybe even about yourself."

Face considered his commanding officer for a minute, then stood without uttering a word and walked resolutely toward the cockpit. Hannibal nodded in satisfaction, silently hoping that the two wouldn't come to blows in the cockpit. Nancy was, after all, the only one on board that could fly the plane.

As Face got closer to the cockpit, he could hear the music better. Nancy was part way through a rather melancholy song, and he stopped and just listened:

_So look homeward baby  
Keep your eyes on the sky  
They will never forgive you  
So don't ask them to try  
This is your party, I know  
it's not your ideal  
May we all find salvation  
In professions that heal _

I hear you calling, you  
don't have to call so loud  
I see you falling and you don't  
have to walk so proud  
You can run all night but we  
can take you where  
You can shout out an answer  
You can laugh like a fool

You can call up to heaven  
We'll be listening to you  
You can sing hallelujah  
You can fly like a bird  
You can cry like angel  
When there are no words

As the last chord faded, Face opened the door, and stepped through.

Nancy jumped and looked at him in surprise, as he closed the door behind him. The last person she'd expected to see was Face.

"What do you want?" she asked suspiciously.

Face crossed his arms, and shook his head, "Just wanted to be able to hear the music better," he said, "Between the door and the engine, it's pretty much drowned out in the cabin."

"I'm . . . done," Nancy said uncomfortably, turning to stow the guitar. But Face stopped her, "C'mon, I'd like to hear another song," he said in a friendly tone, "You sounded good from out there, I'll bet it's terrific in here."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Face sat down in the co-pilot seat and put on his most charming and persuasive smile, "Please, Nancy? Murdock said you had a lot of talent. I'm anxious to hear for myself."

Nancy sat silently contemplating his motivation. She leaned back in her seat, resting the guitar across her lap, but not in playing position. She checked the instruments, as a matter of habit and made some adjustments, then gazed out the window thoughtfully.

Face shifted uncomfortably, and after about a minute of silence, grumbled, "You probably don't know any more good music anyway."

A smiled crossed Nancy's face, and she turned to him, "Now that's more like what I expect from you," she said, sitting forward, and flipping the guitar up to playing position, strumming a chord, "I'll tell you what, why don't you name an artist you like, and I'll see if I know anything by them."

Face looked at her for a minute, then smiled roguishly, "AC/DC."

Nancy struck a couple discordant chords on her guitar, reminiscent of Back in Black, "Acoustic guitar really doesn't lend itself to heavy metal," she said, smiling tolerantly, "Try again."

"I guess that probably wasn't really fair," Face acknowledged, "How about Nora Jones? Or are you out of the current music scene?"

Nancy immediately began playing, and Face recognized _Strange Transmissions_ before she even began singing:

_I believe, you say  
Don't think, we stay  
Drawn through the ebb  
Lost in the flow _

Beneath my breath, I confess  
My world, loved less  
The devil held the proof for me to know

I could only fight for the longest while  
But with the truth out baby  
I belong to you

I stoop, to find  
My place, entwined  
I took it to the bottom one more time

I could only fight for the longest while  
But with the truth out baby  
I belong to you

I could trip and I want you to know  
That every time I think, that I think I should go  
I receive strange transmissions

_I could trip and I want you to know  
That every time I think, that I think I should go  
I receive strange transmissions_

Nancy hadn't looked at him, afraid to see ridicule in his face, but when she finished and finally did venture a glance to see his reaction, she found him staring at her in surprise.

"Murdock always has had a gift for understatement," Face said, adding genuinely, "You have a great voice – not as distinctive as Nora, but damn good."

Nancy was a little taken aback by the apparently sincere praise, and smiled uncertainly, "Thanks."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

Face finally decided that it was time to get to the real point for his visit, and plunged in without any preamble, "So, what exactly did you say to Murdock just before we left?"

Nancy looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Why do you ask?"

"Because he had this huge grin on his face when he walked out of this cock pit just before takeoff," Face said, "and I gotta know why."

Nancy's face broke into a radiant smile, as she recalled those few minutes before take off, again, and Face snorted in disgust, "Yea, a big shit-eating grin, just like that."

Nancy schooled her features, though a slight smile lingered on her lips as she responded, "_That_ is none of your business, Lieutenant."

Face rested his head against the back of the seat, "Guess that means I'm going to have to get used to you being around," he said resignedly.

"You don't have to sound so happy about it," she responded coolly.

"You know, he isn't a guy that enters into a relationship lightly," Face said tersely, "For whatever reason, he really fell hard for you. You have to understand how easily, and _how badly_, you could hurt him . . ."

There was a pregnant pause, before she responded quietly, "I know," running contemplative fingers across the guitar strings.

Face found himself frustrated with her response, or rather lack thereof, "I don't think you fully comprehend what I'm saying. While this may be a pleasant distraction for you, it means a lot more to Murdock . . ."

"I know that," Nancy interrupted sharply, turning and looking intently at Face, "Don't you think I know that? This entire . . . _relationship_ scares the shit out of me. But I've finally admitted, to myself and to him, that I . . .," she took a deep breath, the words still kind of stuck in her throat, "That I love him. And I'm coming to the conclusion that there's not a damn thing I can do about it," she turned back to the front, adding in stark honesty, "And for once in my life I'm glad of that one fact."

Face looked at her in surprise, then after a few seconds sat back with a satisfied smile, "Yea, he kinda has that effect on you, doesn't he?"

Nancy shook her head, and reached over to flip off the autopilot decisively. At least here she had control, "I'm accustomed to being in the driver's seat, but when Murdock's around, it's like . . .," her grip on the control tightened in frustration, "I'm there, but . . . there's no fucking steering wheel. Have you ever felt that way about anyone?"

Face had let out a bark of laughter, which died in his throat at her question, "Me? I try to stay emotionally unattached to the women I meet. It's safer that way."

Nancy raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "Even Amy Amanda Allen?"

He looked at her sharply, "What has Murdock been telling you?"

"Enough for me to recognize that you're in denial," Nancy said.

"That is Murdock's opinion," Face said, shaking his head, "Amy is like a sister . . . an annoying little sister. I could no more have a romantic interest in her, then . . . then the Pope."

Nancy nodded, but her expression said she wasn't buying it, and Face felt a need to reinforce his statement, "We've known Ames for 10 years," he said, "I would have made a move if I was interested."

"Ah, but there's the revealing statement," Nancy said, "I would take the fact that you never made a move a testament to just the opposite."

Face crossed his arms, "For somebody who's just like me you sound an awful lot like Murdock right now."

"Thank you," Nancy said with a smile, "And while I know this will likely irritate you . . . or maybe because, I just wanted to say that keeping Amy away isn't going to make the feelings go away. Eventually you're going to have to face the fact that you're in love, too. Trust me, once you do, you feel a lot better."

"Can we talk about something else?" Face asked disconsolately.

After a minute of silence, she glanced over at him, "OK, well, why the sudden change of heart?" she asked.

"About what?"

"About me."

"Not much point fighting a losing battle," Face said, shrugging, "Besides, like Frankie said, you can't be all bad if Murdock cares that much about you."

She chuckled, "You know, I thought the same about you."

"Great minds . . .," Face started

". . . run in the same ruts," Nancy finished. She looked at him thoughtfully, "So, have you and Murdock been good friends . . . from the beginning?"

"Pretty close," Face said, "Though to be honest, when Hannibal first talked about recruiting Howlin' Mad Murdock, I thought he'd lost it."

"Howlin' Mad?" she asked uncertainly.

Face chuckled, "Yea, he's always worn that nickname like a badge of honor," he sat back, settling in to tell the story, "You see, Murdock had a real reputation as reckless, both in the air and on the ground. In the air, what you learned was that it wasn't recklessness, but this _incredible_ ability and talent. On the ground, it was more like self-destruction. The first time I met Murdock, he'd just come off a real messy med evac. His peter pilot had taken a hit through the neck, and he didn't make it. Murdock was sitting in the corner of the bar, alone, nursing a beer. Couple grunts came in and spotted him, and decided he looked like an easy target to burn off some aggression. They walked over, sat down, and started razzin' him. He told them to lay off, and got up to walk away, but one of 'em grabbed his arm . . ."

Face shook his head, the scene from that night still vivid, "It was like a time bomb going off, he really laid into the kid, which quickly led to two on one. Murdock's always been skinny as a rail, tough, but no weight behind it, you know," Face shook his head, "Couple of us went to break it up, but after getting the two grunts going, and boy were they vicious, Murdock just sat there, taking the beating, not even fighting back. I was the one that pulled him out and I offered to walk him to the infirmary, but he wasn't interested. Said it was his punishment, and besides, the pain reminded him that he, at least, was still alive."

"That was my introduction to HM Murdock," Face said, "He walked out of the bar and disappeared. I didn't see him again to speak to him until he and his chopper crew flew us on a mission. Now there was another experience . . ."

Face reminisced for the next hour. Nancy really appreciated the company, and Face's stories were entertaining, as well as informative, giving her a glimpse into the events that had shaped the Murdock she knew.

His performance was interrupted when Hannibal came forward to check on them, "Well, glad to see you haven't killed each other," he said glibly.

"Not yet," they responded in unison, glancing at each other in amusement.

Hannibal gave a satisfied grunt, turned and walked out of the cockpit.

Cavalry Advance 

Frankie and Murdock took off 4 hours to the minute after Nancy and the rest of the team. Frankie had been walking on eggshells for the last couple hours. As their departure approached, Murdock had become more and more intense. It was reminding him of the time they'd spent together during the trial. Murdock kind of scared him when he got like that.

He finally started to relax, once Murdock took to the air. His mood lightened, and he seemed to calm down, at least at first. Unfortunately, he was sucking down Mountain Dew, and his energy level seemed to be going up exponentially with every swig. Frankie cast a furtive sideways glance, Murdock definitely had some manic tendencies.

Murdock caught the look, "What's wrong, Frank?"

"I was just thinking that you might want to lay off the Dew, Murdock," Frankie said, "You're wound tight enough as it is."

Murdock had stopped with the bottle halfway to his lips, and slowly put it back down, "Yea, guess I am a little keyed up," he admitted.

Frankie looked at him shrewdly, "Worried about Nancy?"

"I'm worried about all of them," Murdock said flatly.

Frankie ventured a question that had been plaguing him since Face's accusations, "Do you think she and Palumbo . . . you know, had a _relationship_?"

"That is a question on which I prefer not to dwell, Frank," Murdock said matter-of-factly.

"Sorry," Frankie said, "It's just that I know if I were you, I'd be uncomfortable knowing my girlfriend was running back to a guy she'd slept with . . . even if it is because she wants to put him in jail."

Murdock pinched the bridge of his nose, "What part of 'don't want to dwell on it' don't you understand, Frankie?"

"Right, sorry," Frankie said, "It's just . . ."

"Frankie, shut the hell up," Murdock spat irritably, effectively ending the conversation for the remainder of the trip.

Columbia 

The Team and Nancy landed in Columbia without any problems. As planned, they took a jeep to the village closest to Palumbo's hacienda. Hannibal, BA and Face stayed in the background, but Nancy did nothing to hide her arrival in town, and headed straight to the bar that had been the beginning of her downfall in Columbia – la misionera cantante borracha had returned.

Palumbo showed up much quicker than Nancy had anticipated. She had only been playing for an hour and a half, which meant Palumbo had gotten word that she was there and left for town almost immediately. She watched warily as he strode into the bar, continuing to belt out the lyrics to Shawn Colvin's _Sunny Came Home:_

_Sunny came home with a list of names  
She didn't believe in transcendence  
It's time for a few small repairs she said  
Sunny came home with a vengeance _

She says days go by I don't know why  
I'm walking on a wire  
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire

Get the kids and bring a sweater  
Dry is good and wind is better  
Count the years, you always knew it  
Strike a match, go on and do it

Days go by I'm hypnotized  
I'm walking on a wire  
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire  
Light the sky and hold on tight  
The world is burning down  
She's out there on her own and she's alright  
Sunny came home  
Sunny came home...

Palumbo stood at the back of the bar, feet planted solidly shoulder-width apart, arms crossed, and an arrogant smile on his face. As Nancy finished, he uncrossed his arms and clapped slowly, "So nice to see you again, Ruby," then he shrugged, "Or should I say Nancy?"

Nancy sat her guitar on the stool and stepped down off the tiny riser that passed for a stage, "You can call me whatever you like as long as you promise not to send anymore exploding calling cards," she said sardonically.

He spread his hands in a gesture that might have been apologetic had it not been for the mocking look on his face, "I had to do something to get you back down here," he smiled, "Looks like it worked."

"What woman could resist?" Nancy asked with a wary smile she stepped closer to Palumbo, her gaze never wavering from his, "So, now that I'm here, what exactly do you want?"

Palumbo reached up a hand and cupped her face, running a perfectly manicured thumb over her lips, "I think that it's time we got to really know each other. But first," the gentle touch turned to an iron grip, "I need to know, _Agent _Clay, can I trust you?"

Nancy brought her knee up reflexively into his groin, which caused him to release his grip and bend instinctively, bringing his face was level with hers. She placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to confide, "You can trust me to do what's best for me. I'm sure I can assume the same for you. As long as we both understand that, then we should get along just fine."

Palumbo shook off the attack, smiled and straightened up slowly, his gaze watchful, "So, what is best for Nancy Clay at this moment, and what exactly do you have to offer to me?"

Nancy calmly walked over to the bar to take a seat. The other people in the little place had prudently left, except for three men, scattered about the seating area apparently oblivious to the interchange.

Nancy picked up the lukewarm beer that the bartender had placed on the bar for her when the music had first stopped and took a sip, "I am in need of a secure location, where General Stockwell can't touch me. Which can be a real challenge since he operates with less political encumbrance than the US government . . ."

Palumbo considered this thoughtfully as he took a seat next to her, "And in exchange for offering you my hospitality?"

Nancy smiled and glanced at him sideways, "You get the pleasure of my company, of course."

"As enticing as that sounds," Palumbo said, chuckling softly, "I'm going to need a bit more persuasion to take a woman into my hacienda that has already betrayed me once."

"What about all the files from the past year of surveillance?" she offered.

"Now that is getting more interesting," he admitted, "But what assurance do I have that you didn't leave copies in Langley?"

"Hmm . . . I suppose that's where trust becomes an issue," Nancy said thoughtfully as she took another sip of her rapidly warming beer, "I may be able to offer more persuasion, but I will want more than sanctuary. I want a piece of the action – and I have a lot more to offer than Nolan ever did."

"Well, I certainly can't argue there," Palumbo said, smiling at her like a Cheshire cat. They sat drinking their beers quietly for a few minutes. As Palumbo put down his empty mug, he turned and faced her, an elbow on the bar, "Let's cut through all the bull shit, shall we?" he said, "You came down here with a group of men that I am very interested to meet. I believe we can come to a working arrangement that could be beneficial for all concerned. But the deal is for all of you, and I hate middle men, or women, as the case may be."

Nancy pushed her beer mug away unfinished and turned to face the seating area, "Well, technically, I can't speak for the A-Team anyway. Colonel, what do you think?"

Hannibal stood, his Smith & Wesson cradled in his crossed arms, "I'd say it's worth talking. But here is not the place. What say we head back to your place, Mr. Palumbo?"

"My chariot awaits."

Before allowing them on the choppers, Palumbo confiscated all weapons. He smiled, as they were stowed in a lock box, "You may have them back, once I'm confident about whose side you're on."

It took two choppers to get them all to the hacienda. Palumbo, Nancy and Hannibal in one, Face and a very reluctant BA in the other. Palumbo sat in the back bench with Nancy, an arm thrown carelessly across her shoulders. Hannibal turned in the seat and looked at Palumbo, "Has Perez been giving you any more grief?"

"So," Palumbo said, smiling at Hannibal, "Ruby has filled you in on the situation, eh?"

Hannibal nodded, and Palumbo continued, "Well, he continues to make incursions, but none further into the hacienda. He's been causing havoc with the fields, though. I think Mr. Nolan could use a hand with crop security . . ."

"Security," Hannibal interjected with a grin, "Is our specialty."

Palumbo smiled, "Good," his attention turned pointedly to Nancy, dismissing Hannibal, he ran a finger along her cheek, "I missed you, my dear," he said quietly.

Nancy looked up at him, and felt her pulse quicken. This wasn't what she had expected. She caught Hannibal's smirk out of the corner of her eye, as he turned to face forward. She was suddenly very glad that Murdock was not with them.

"You have a funny way of showing it," she said bitingly, "My ass is still sore, and my partner is nursing two broken ribs."

"I thought it was a fitting invitation for someone such as yourself," Palumbo said with a smile, "An invitation and a warning, all in one. I trust you understand that I will not tolerate another betrayal. If there is a next time, you won't walk away."

He was still smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and Nancy nodded, "Oh, I get the message, loud and clear," she said, then smiled at him, "But I don't expect there to be any problems, as long as you make it worth my while."

"I would think allowing you to live would be motivation enough."

Still the smile didn't reach is eyes, and his gaze was calculating. Nancy sensed that he was testing her, and she chuckled, shaking her head, "If you think a death threat is motivating, then you and I have very different ideas about what constitutes a long term relationship," she said forthrightly, "I came down here because I wanted to, not because you frighten me. If that's all you have to offer me personally then perhaps you should turn the chopper around and take me back to the village."

"_That_ is not going to happen."

Nancy pulled out a small switchblade that had escaped the weapons search. Flipping it open with practiced ease, she leaned forward and held it to the pilot's throat. The pilot held stock still, casting a nervous glance at the blade, but holding the chopper on a steady course. She turned to Palumbo, "I'm not negotiating, here," she said quietly, "I'll slit his throat and fly the damn chopper back to the village myself, if we don't come to some other agreement. But I won't live under a threat. I came here for my piece of the action, not just indentured whoredom. I expect more than your bed, do we understand each other?"

Palumbo burst out laughing, "Put the knife away, my dear," he said heartily, "There is no need to slit my pilot's throat. And while I do look forward to sharing my bed with you, again, trust me when I say, that I have infinitely more to offer a woman such as yourself."

Perez 

When Murdock and Frankie arrived in the small backwater village near Perez's stronghold, they made a beeline for the local bar. Murdock was now nursing a beer as he struck up a casual conversation with the bartender, fishing for information on where to hook up with Perez.

Frankie watched in quiet awe. Murdock never ceased to amaze him. His Spanish was fluent, and he was rapidly setting the tone for their meeting with Perez, posing as a mercenary, looking for a long-term, well-paying job, and hinting that he had inside information on Palumbo that a rival might be interested in.

The bartender directed them to a nice home on the outskirts of town. Murdock didn't want to waste any time, so in short order they were knocking on the door. The woman who answered spoke no English. Murdock asked to see Mr. Perez, which was initially refused, but he pressed and they were eventually ushered in by a large, and robust body guard.

He led them to a large, inner room that appeared to be a library, "Espere aquí," the guard said gruffly before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

They heard a lock click, and with no other visible exit from the room, Frankie was beginning to feel very nervous. He watched as Murdock made a casual circuit of the room, looking totally calm. When Murdock finally turned and looked at him, Frankie hissed at him urgently, "Did you hear that?" he asked through gritted teeth, "That was definitely the door locking. Now what?"

Murdock shrugged nonchalantly, "We wait here, like the nice gentleman suggested."

Murdock could see that he hadn't helped to allay Frankie's nervousness, and moved closer to the younger man, "This is the time to show no fear, Frank. These type of people feed on it," he whispered, "Take a deep breath, sit down, and wait. I don't think it will be too long."

Murdock was right. At that moment, a hidden door opened at the rear of the room, and a man fitting Lorenzo Perez's description walked in and stood behind the desk, looking at the two visitors.

"Captain Murdock," Perez said, "What is it that I can do for you?"

Murdock moved up to the other side of the desk, looking at Perez closely, "I thought I already made that clear to your gorilla," he said scathingly, after a minute of inspection, "I want to talk to Lorenzo Perez."

"And here I am," the man behind the desk said.

Murdock leaned forward and shook his head, "I said Lorenzo, not his half-wit brother," he turned and looked directly at the one mirror in the room, "Unless, of course, Lorenzo isn't interested in taking Palumbo down, in which case you can unlock the door so that my associate and I can find someone who is."

On the other side of the one-way mirror, Lorenzo Perez smiled, "I think I like this gringo."

Hacienda Hello 

Palumbo's chopper landed first, and he, Nancy and Hannibal disembarked. The other chopper did not appear and land until the first had taken off and was out of sight, "That is standard procedure, Colonel Smith," Palumbo said, "The two armed guards are under orders to shoot down both choppers if this process is not followed."

Hannibal nodded in approval, as BA practically leapt off the second chopper followed by an amused-looking Face. They joined the group between the two heavily-armed guards, as the second chopper lifted and disappeared.

In the quiet, following the chopper's retreat, they heard footsteps, followed by a slamming door. A man appeared behind them, "Mr. Palumbo," he stopped short when he saw the group of strangers standing with his boss, and waited uncertainly.

"Yes, Luther, what is it?"

He looked at the strangers uneasily, and Palumbo waved him off impatiently, "I will be down in a moment, wait for me in the office."

Without a word, Luther nodded acknowledgement and turned and hurried back the way he had come.

Palumbo turned and looked at his guests calculatingly, "I would suggest that you explore the grounds, and take a look at our defenses. I would be very interested in you observations, and any suggestions for improvements. I'm sure Ms. Clay can act as a guide. She's quite familiar with most of the grounds. I will join you on the kitchen patio in an hour."

He turned and walked away, tacitly dismissing them.

Hannibal held out an expectant hand to Face, who obligingly placed a fresh cigar in it, "Well guys, you heard our host. Let's see what they've got for security around this place. Keep sharp."

Hannibal turned and looked at Nancy in anticipation. She nodded, and turned to lead them to an exterior staircase leading down to the main courtyard. She led them methodically around the grounds, pointing out pertinent landmarks, and areas. The outer perimeter wall encompassed nearly four acres, and included 7 separate buildings, with various functions, which was a lot of ground to cover in one hour.

The holding cells were their last area to explore. They were housed in a low, cinder block building in the interior of the grounds, partially buried, with only small barred windows into the interior. As they circled them, Nancy surreptitiously looked into each cell, and it took all of her self control not to react when she caught sight of Fred Littleford through one of these low windows. His face was varying shades of purple and green, indicating several brutal beatings, over an extended period of time. He was lying prone on the dirt floor of one of the cells, one eye swollen shut, and the other closed, in sleep or unconsciousness, she wasn't sure which.

Nancy's steps had slowed noticeably as they passed Fred's cell, and Hannibal moved up beside her, putting a hand at the small of her back and urging her forward as he hissed in her ear, "Keep moving, you're going to draw attention," he made an imperceptible motion to Face and BA, signaling them to mark the cell location – they would need to be able to get back here, probably on the run.

Hannibal could feel the tension in Nancy's stance, as he steered her past the holding cells. He put an arm around her waist, and leaned in, "Are you going to be OK?"

She nodded, and forced herself to take calming breaths as the holding cells disappeared behind them, "We need to get this done fast, Colonel," she hissed, her lips barely moving, "Freddie looked pretty bad."

Hannibal nodded, "There's that," he agreed, "And the fact that Palumbo seems to have attached himself to you. I have a real bad feeling about his intentions."

"Yea, me too."

Hannibal still had a protective arm around her, as they moved into the main courtyard. Luther was standing on the front veranda, his eyes following their progress as they moved to the center of the courtyard. Hannibal released Nancy, turning to BA and Face, "We've seen the main sites," he said, "Do an exterior perimeter sweep and report back in 15 minutes. I want a thorough goon and gun count out there and keep your eyes open for weaknesses."

BA and Face nodded and headed off in opposite directions at a trot. Hannibal turned back to Nancy, and caught site of Palumbo standing on a second floor veranda, watching them with interest.

Hannibal lit his cigar, and puffed thoughtfully on it, "Well, what do you think?"

Nancy crossed her arms, "I think this place is like fucking Fort Knox," she said tightly, "There were at least four armed guards on the holding cells, two in each of the five towers, two on the roof, not only with submachine guns, but also with backup antiaircraft weaponry, and I'd wager there are another two full shifts of personnel. That makes at least 48 heavily armed men, _not even_ counting Palumbo and his administrative staff."

Hannibal nodded, she hadn't missed anything. He grinned, "Yea, should be quite a challenge. I wonder . . .," he said ruminatively, glancing up to where Palumbo still stood, watching, "I wonder how Murdock and Frankie are making out with Perez."

Deal with the Devil 

Murdock was still looking intently at the mirror when the hidden door opened again, and Lorenzo Perez himself walked through. Though he and his brother were identical twins, the difference between them was obvious. Lorenzo swaggered, self-confidence apparent in every move, while his brother, Louis, might as well have been invisible. Lorenzo tapped his brother on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the door, through which Lewis disappeared unassumingly a moment later.

Lorenzo sat down, leaned back, and propped his feet indifferently on the desk, steepling his hands in front of him as he considered Murdock with a blatantly curious gaze, "Please, Captain Murdock, have a seat and tell me why I shouldn't have you killed."

Murdock smiled, dropping into a chair directly across from Perez and sitting back as casually as if they were discussing the weather, "Because I can deliver Antonio Palumbo's operation to you on a silver platter."

Perez's expression was amused, but slowly sobered as Murdock continued to look at him with a steady, unperturbed gaze.

"And how do you intend to do that, Captain?" he glanced back at Frankie, who was sitting nervously behind Murdock, and chuckled, "Are you and your _associate_ going to intimidate him into just handing it over? If so, you had better give you friend some tips on intimidation tactics, because he's not very good at it."

Murdock ignored the stab at Frankie, instead stating calmly, "I have three men in Palumbo's hacienda who are trained in military and covert operations. They are prepared to move on my signal to attack from the inside."

"Palumbo has an army in that hacienda," Perez said scathingly, "What can three men do?"

"Under Colonel Hannibal Smith's command, those men are a much more formidable force than Palumbo's hacks," Murdock said confidently.

"Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith?" Perez's feet had dropped to the floor and he sat forward, a manic gleam lighting his eyes, "_The_ A-Team? They are inside the hacienda?"

Murdock nodded, and Perez sat back, considering Murdock through narrowed eyes, "But from what I've heard, the A-Team would generally align against someone like me," he said, "Why are they instead willing to help me?"

"It's the lesser of two evils philosophy," Murdock said, "Right now, Palumbo is our target, and you are a means to an end."

"And once we're inside the hacienda," Perez said distrustfully, "What assurance do I have that you won't turn on me?"

"What assurance do I have that you won't turn on us?" Murdock asked, "There are far more of you than us."

Perez and Murdock sized each other up for a solid minute, before Perez sat forward, "Allow me a bit of time, Captain," he finally said, "I will check with my sources. If I am able to verify your story, I will begin assembling my men and then we can talk strategy. If I am not able to verify your story, you and your associate will be . . . dealt with appropriately."

"Fine," Murdock said, his tone reflecting his impatience, "But the clock is ticking. We have to strike early tomorrow morning – the timing is critical."

Perez nodded, and turned to leave the room, but stopped and motioned to the guard at the door, who stepped forward, "George will show you to a guest room, gentlemen," he said, "Please remain there and make yourselves comfortable. Someone will escort you to dinner when the time comes."

Dinner Conversation 

When they arrived on the kitchen patio, an early al fresco dinner table was set and awaiting them.

Palumbo stood at the French doors leading from the formal dining room, another set of French doors led into the kitchen, and staff could be seen hustling around making last minute preparations for dinner.

"Please, take a seat," Palumbo said, "Dinner will be served shortly."

Hannibal held a seat out for Nancy then took a seat to her left. BA and Face sat across from them, and Palumbo sat on the end, between Nancy and BA.

"So, Colonel, did you find our hacienda security in good order?" Palumbo asked, as a young woman came around and filled their wine glasses.

Face smiled charmingly at the young woman as she filled his glass, "Thank you, very much," he said warmly.

She giggled like a school girl then cast a furtive glance towards Palumbo, "That will be all for now, Melena," he said sharply, and as she hurried into the kitchen, he turned his attention to Face, "The kitchen staff is strictly off limits, Lieutenant."

"Then I guess that means no moonlight walks with the lovely Melena?" Face asked innocently.

"Melena is my cousin," Palumbo said, "And if you know what's good for you, you will stay away from her. She is already promised to someone."

Nancy let out a short laugh, "Like that will stop him."

"I don't see any other attractive, eligible women around here," Face said scathingly.

Palumbo's eyebrows raised, "Do I sense some discord in this team."

"She is not part of the Team," Face said quietly.

"Alright, that's enough," Hannibal broke in sharply, "You heard Mr. Palumbo, Lieutenant, kitchen staff is hands off. As for you," his attention turned to Nancy, "Lay off Face."

"Keep your troops in line, Colonel," Palumbo said in amusement.

"Like dealing with kids," Hannibal replied irritably.

As Nancy and Face lapsed into sullen, defiant silence, Hannibal turned his attention back to Palumbo's previous question. Pointedly ignoring the wine, he took a drink from his water glass before answering, "Getting back to business, your rooftop defenses are solid, but the perimeter is lacking. My men made it out and back in without any alarm being raised. You have blind spots between your towers, and your men are sleeping on the job up there."

"Very astute assessment, Colonel," Palumbo said, smiling thinly, "I will certainly be open to any corrective measures that you think we should institute."

The food had arrived by the hand of a large and matronly woman who gave Face a reproving glare each time she passed him. Slowly, the food was distributed to their plates, and conversation was quiet as they all began eating. Nancy nearly jumped out of her seat when Palumbo's hand touched her knee. He smiled at her warmly, and Nancy forced herself to smile back. Hannibal felt Nancy's slight start, and caught the look, "Would you like us to leave you two alone?" he asked shortly.

Palumbo looked at Hannibal and chuckled, "Does my fondness for Ms. Clay disturb you, Colonel?"

"No, I just don't feel like witnessing it," Hannibal said flatly.

"Come, Colonel, we are both grown men," Palumbo said, "I saw you with your arm around her this afternoon. Perhaps I am, how do you Americans say it, 'horning in' on your territory. If so, please tell me. While I don't promise to back off, I do like to know who my competition is."

Nancy pushed her chair back forcefully from the table, knocking it over in the process, "I'm going inside," she muttered irritably.

She turned and walked swiftly into the house, slamming the door in the process. Palumbo looked after her with an amused expression, "Must be that time of the month, eh Colonel?"

"She does tend to get a bit moody at times," Hannibal agreed, guardedly.

"If you don't mind my saying so, she seems a bit young for you," Palumbo said.

Hannibal decided to play along, "Well, she has an old soul, and I'm young at heart, which kinda evens the playing field. Of course, when we headed down here, she lost interest," he shrugged noncommittally, "It was fun while it lasted."

"You failed to break her properly, Colonel Smith. You Americans tend to be far too easy on your women," Palumbo said ominously, "But, it is a mistake that I will not make."

Outwardly, Hannibal didn't react, but Palumbo was confirming his concern about his intentions with their little spook. He hoped Nancy was prepared for whatever Palumbo had in mind.

Frankie paced the length of the guest room, where he and Murdock had been taken after leaving the library. He had heard that telltale click of the lock after the door had closed behind them. Though there were two windows, both were covered by bars, and offered no potential for exit.

"Did he call this a guest room?" Frankie asked incredulously, "Not a real great host, is he?"

Murdock dropped onto one of the two beds in the room, and pushed his hat over his eyes, "Sit down and relax, Frankie," he counseled, propping his hands behind his head, "Better get some rest while you can."

Nancy wandered around the downstairs, before heading upstairs to Palumbo's private suite. She had been just as happy to skip the meal. Since seeing Freddie, she had lost her appetite. She walked through the living area and into his private office, dropping into the chair and crossing her arms. She glanced surreptitiously around the room, quickly picking out the surveillance cameras, which were strategically positioned to provide a 360 degree view of the room.

From the chair she took inventory of the room. It hadn't changed substantially from her last visit to the hacienda. That visit, she had never been left alone long enough to do any nosing around. She stood and walked over to the file cabinet, opening the top drawer. Let Palumbo know she was into his files – she was, after all, his partner.

At the dinner table, they were finishing up the meal, and Hannibal pulled out his cigar, and lit it.

Palumbo looked at the cigar appraisingly, "That appears to be Cuban."

"One of my vices," Hannibal said, looking at the burning tip of the cigar, "My Lieutenant has a connection in Havana, and manages to keep me supplied. Face, give Mr. Palumbo a cigar."

Face seemed to make a cigar appear out of nowhere, and held it out to Palumbo, who took it and held it to his nose, "Nice," he said appreciatively, clipping the end expertly, and leaning in to allow Hannibal to light it, "You have excellent taste in both women and cigars, Colonel."

Luther came striding through the French doors, and leaned down to whisper something to Palumbo. Palumbo sat back, his expression carefully neutral, "No, I do not want you to do anything. I will be up shortly to deal with it."

Luther nodded in acknowledgement and backed away from the table, disappearing back through the French doors. Hannibal glanced after him, "Does he ever speak?"

Palumbo smiled, "Luther knows his place, Colonel," he said quietly, "Unfortunately, Ms. Clay still needs to be taught that lesson."

Palumbo drained his wine glass, and carefully knocked the burning end out of the cigar, stowing it in his pocket for later, "When you are done, gentlemen, Clarisse will show you to your accommodations," he turned and walked swiftly into the house.

Hannibal looked at BA and Face, "I think we better tag along and see what's up."

Face nodded, "I have a bad feeling about this, Hannibal."

Hannibal's teeth locked on his cigar, "So do I," he agreed tensely.

Uneasy Alliances 

Frankie was just starting to doze off when the door to their 'guest' room slammed open and George, the burly guard, came striding in, "Levántese! Vayamos!"

Murdock had snapped wide awake, and was already standing as Frankie groggily rolled out of bed. They followed the guard back down to Perez's office, where Perez and two other men were waiting.

Perez motioned them to seats at the conference table, "It appears we have a deal, gentlemen. I was able to verify your story. I am in the process of assembling my men," he indicated each of the other two men in turn, "These are Salvatore and Thomas, my lieutenants."

Murdock declined the offered seat, instead moving to examine an aerial photo of Palumbo's hacienda on a nearby cork board, "Is this current?"

"Taken just yesterday," Perez confirmed, joining Murdock at the photo, "As you can see, they have been fortifying their perimeter, likely in response to my recent attack. Palumbo is not taking any chances. The hacienda is like a fortress."

Perez turned his attention to Murdock, his expression blatantly curious, "My source tells me that you're A-Team arrived with a woman. I understand that Palumbo is quite enamored of her. Tell me, Captain, are we going to be dealing with a hostage situation here? Because I don't give a rat's ass about the woman, so if she gets in the way, she gets dead."

"You don't have to worry about Nancy," Murdock said, "She's been a covert agent for over 10 years and she's quite capable of taking care of herself.

He turned his attention pointedly back to the photo, "How many armed men does Palumbo have, now?"

Thomas spoke up, "According to our inside man, he had doubled his on-shift guard. That means that there are around 60 armed men inside the compound."

Murdock nodded, "Two in each tower, two on the helipad, the rest on the interior?"

"That would be about right," Thomas confirmed, they have no one outside the perimeter wall. However, there are many traps laid within the half mile of the wall. Approach is dangerous."

Murdock nodded, "Yes, I'm well aware of that," Nancy and Trixie had been very detailed in their description of the traps they had run into during their surveillance. There was nothing new out there, and thankfully, no land mines. They were too unpredictable in the humidity of the rain forest, "They'll be something that the ground troops will just have to deal with. Luckily, my sources say that it's all conventional, so if you keep alert, know what to look for, and take it slow, they should be easily avoided."

"So the party will start when we reach the hacienda perimeter," Perez said, "Those towers are a major hurdle to getting through the defenses. And they have reinforced them since our last incursion. I lost many men the last time . . ."

"The Team, Frankie and I will neutralize the towers and the helipad," Murdock interrupted, "That will only leave a dozen men on duty, with the rest on siesta. If we get the timing right and act fast, that should give us the edge we need."

Palumbo stormed into the office, having worked up a temper on his way up the stairs. Nancy was still standing at the file cabinet, and turned as he entered the room. Palumbo said nothing, slamming the door, striding up to her, and backhanding her across the face so hard that she stumbled against the file cabinet, catching herself on the handle and in the process pushing the drawer she was looking through closed.

Nancy straightened slowly, and when she turned to look at Palumbo, instead of the fear that he had anticipated seeing there, there was a defiant rage. She put the back of her hand up to the corner of her mouth, and looked at the blood smeared there as she took it away.

She looked at him for a few seconds, then suddenly spun around, catching him on the side of his face, with her foot. He had been totally unprepared for the attack, and went down hard. She landed in a defensive crouch, and looked at him angrily, "Don't you _ever_ do that again," she said in a low, threatening voice.

Hannibal, Face and BA had arrived on the second floor in time to see the door slam violently. Hannibal picked up the pace, as he realized that Nancy was likely the source of Palumbo's anger. When he pushed the door open, the scene before him almost made him laugh in relief, though he had a feeling the worst was yet to come.

Palumbo stood, and Nancy straightened, though she maintained a watchful stance. Palumbo turned and looked at Hannibal, a slight smile on his lips, "Coming to the damsel's rescue, Colonel?"

"Looks like you're the one needing rescued," Hannibal said quietly, hoping to change Palumbo's target.

"Leave, Hannibal," it was Nancy, and Hannibal looked at her, surprise evident on his face.

Palumbo glanced at her, his smile broadening slightly, "She's absolutely right, Colonel," he said, turning his attention again to the men, "This is between myself and Miss Clay. Your intervention is neither needed, nor wanted."

Hannibal glanced at Nancy, who nodded almost imperceptibly, and he shook his head and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "Have it your way," he said, as led the way out of the room, "Let's go guys."

It's All in the Strategy 

Murdock sat back irritably from the table, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, and rolling his head, "We've been over this at least three times," he said impatiently, "It is going to take time to get this number of men to the hacienda perimeter. If we don't move soon, we're going to miss our window."

"Patience, Captain," Perez said, "Preparations are nearly complete."

Murdock pushed his chair back and stood, "Fine, but while you are rehashing the same ground, I want to see the bird I'm going to be using, and get prepped, myself."

"Patience isn't Murdock's strong suit," Frankie explained.

"Perhaps it is time to move from plan into action," Perez said, nodding agreement, "Thomas, Salvatore, check your men, and make final preparations for the attack. Captain, I will take you to the chopper, and then see to my personal troops."

When they walked out into the enclosed area behind Perez's home, Murdock and Frankie were both astounded. The modest home fronted an efficient and fairly modern military compound, which was currently bustling with activity.

They got into a jeep, which took them along a well-worn roadway into the trees behind the main compound. But the trees were just a screen. Cut out of the jungle behind the compound was a good-sized air field with two hangars, and a landing strip long enough to accommodate a large cargo plane. In front of one of the hangars were two helipads, each with a chopper on it.

Murdock hopped out of the jeep before it had even stopped, walking up to one of the choppers, and running a reverent hand along its tail, "I always thought these Hinds were vastly underrated by the US," he said thoughtfully, "Though the navigation does leave something to be desired."

"You know your aircraft, Captain," Perez said in admiration, "Your government has been unloading them, and I picked one up for a song. It's a good all-purpose chopper that I often find useful."

"However, the Apache is my pride and joy," Perez said, indicating the chopper on the next pad, "I acquired this fairly recently off the black market."

Murdock looked closer at the Apache, nodding in appreciation. He'd flown one or two, and they were a nice sleek helicopter, "Those things practically fly themselves," he said with a smile, "Kinda takes the challenge out of flying, though."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, since it means you won't be disappointed that the Hind is yours, Captain," Perez said, "Once the hacienda is secure, you will be able to use it to return to the airport, where you can leave it and be on your way."

Murdock turned back to the Hind, and smiled, "That's fine by me."

"Where's our fire power?" Frankie asked anxiously.

"I believe you will find everything you requested already stowed in the chopper," Perez said, as he got back into the jeep, "If you need anything else, let Manuel know," he added, indicating an unassuming man lingering by the Apache, "He has been instructed to get you whatever you need. I will see you gentlemen next on the battlefield."

Perez gave Murdock a cocky salute as the jeep skidded around in a cloud of dust, disappearing back towards the main compound.

Frankie looked at the chopper uncertainly. Murdock strode up to the side and slid open the door, "There ya go, Frank. You'll be riding shotgun, so get things stowed so that they're convenient. I'm gonna give this baby a once over, make sure Perez hasn't given us a lemon."

As the door closed behind BA, who gave Palumbo what would best be termed a warning growl before closing the door, Palumbo turned back to Nancy and considered her through narrowed eyes, "You fascinate me, Ms. Clay," he said, smiling, "I've never known a woman such as yourself. Does anything frighten you?"

Nancy was still very cautious, "In my line of work, it's OK to be afraid, but it can be murder to admit it," she said honestly, "Fear, like love, or hate, is just another emotion to be controlled, tamed, and put to good use. If you think you can control me by making me fear you, you are sorely mistaken. If this is going to work, then perhaps it's time we came to an understanding about what our relationship is – both working and personal."

Palumbo smiled appreciatively, "I think that is a very good idea," he said, "First, I ask that you leave my private files alone, unless I invite you to share them. In return for the courtesy of my privacy, I will show you the respect you deserve. I trust you understand that until I have satisfied myself that we are . . . on the same Team, shall we say, that this is the way it must be."

"As for our personal relationship," Palumbo continued, "You are far more attractive to me as Nancy Clay then you ever were as Ruby James. Ruby was a passing fancy," he smiled, his look enough to make Nancy blush, "You are a woman I could see myself with for the long term."

As he spoke he had moved in closer and closer, until he was so close that Nancy could feel his breath as he spoke. He cupped her face in his hands, and leaned down, licking a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth, before closing his mouth over hers in a hungry kiss. Palumbo was very ardent, and very adept, maneuvering her to the leather couch along the wall. Nancy allowed herself to get caught up in Palumbo's passion, forcing herself to channel her hatred into the physical act of sex.

Hannibal paced agitatedly on the patio, looking at his watch, and then glancing up at the nearest tower, "Looks like it's shift change," he said around his cigar stub, "Do a quick perimeter sweep, you know the drill."

Face and BA looked at each other, and headed off in opposite directions, yet again. They were quickly learning the entire area, and becoming familiar with the routines of the hacienda, which they both knew was the point of the exercise. Hannibal watched them disappear, then headed out to the compound center. To anyone watching, it would appear he was just wandering aimlessly, wasting time, but it had a purpose. He made his way to the holding cells, and watched as the guards changed there. He counted 20 men come out in total. Hannibal nodded to them as they walked by, towards the barracks. He then walked into the interior of the holding cells, walking down the central hall.

He was stopped by the first guard he came to, but found Luther at his elbow, "He's got clearance, Puente," he said authoritatively, then turning his attention to Hannibal he asked, "How are you finding our defenses, Colonel?"

Hannibal looked at Luther closely, for the first time. He was young, but there was a burning intelligence behind his eyes that belied his age. Hannibal continued on down the hall, "I trust the guard changes on a rotating schedule," he said.

"Of course," Luther said, "The shifts rotate by 2, 4, 6, or 8 hours depending on the week. Except the shifts here, which remain on a routine shift change, so that it is staggered, depending on the week."

"Too predictable," Hannibal said, "You need to change your routine every week on rotating days, with a different pattern each day. Otherwise, on a weekly basis your vulnerable times can be determined with time to act on it. As for this place, what do you have here that requires 20 men to guard?"

"Agent Littleford is our primary ward, right now," Luther said, "The remainder of the detail is basically kept on shift as backup to the tower and helipad personnel."

They had made their way down to the cell that held Fred Littleford, and Hannibal looked in the cell. It didn't look like the DEA agent had moved since they had seen him earlier, "Is he still alive?" Hannibal asked emotionlessly.

"Yes, but he's not going to be running a marathon any time soon," Luther said, glancing in the small barred window, "To be honest, I really didn't see the point of torturing him, but Palumbo likes to keep his skills sharp. He's a brutal interrogator, Colonel, with no mercy and no conscience."

Fred Littleford moved slightly, emitting a strangled moan, as he attempted to roll over, "How long has it been since he's been given any food or water?"

Luther turned and looked at Hannibal through narrowed eyes, "He won't be able to walk out of here on his own, Colonel," he said in a low voice, "It's been at least a couple days since he's had anything. You'll need a stretcher to get him to the helipad."

Hannibal looked at Luther sharply, "What are you talking about?"

"Come, Colonel," Luther said, "You and I both know why you're really here. Don't worry, I will not expose you, and I will do what I can to help."

"You're a mole for Perez," Hannibal muttered in understanding.

Luther smiled at him, and turned to walk the rest of the way down the holding cell hall. Hannibal turned and followed, he'd take an ally where ever he could find one at this point.

Murdock swung himself up into the back of the chopper, to check and see how Frankie was getting along, "Well, some good news for ya," he said cheerfully, "This chopper is in tip top condition, for an antique. It'll get us where we need to go, though. How's it goin' back here?"

"I'm just about set," Frankie said enthusiastically, "I got myself a whole array of lovely explosives to play with. When the time comes, we'll light up that hacienda like the fourth of July."

"Whoa, Frankie," Murdock said, "Not until we have our Team in sight. No indiscriminate explosions. We'll take out the towers, and hope that Hannibal and the guys have dealt with the anti-aircraft weapons on the roof."

"What if they haven't?" Frankie asked worriedly.

"Then we be in trouble, son," Murdock answered matter-of-factly, crawling into the front of the chopper to begin his pre-flight. He was past ready to get this show on the road.

The Calm Before the Storm 

Hannibal found Nancy on the veranda, off Palumbo's private bedroom, "How are ya, kid?" he asked as he sat down across from her.

Nancy looked at him and shrugged, "I'm fine," she said unconvincingly.

Hannibal put a hand under her chin, looking critically at the darkening bruise on her cheek, and the split lip, "Well, doesn't look like he did any additional _physical_ damage after we left."

"I wouldn't have asked you to leave if I couldn't handle him," she said, jerking her chin out of his hand disconsolately.

"Sweetheart, I didn't have any doubt that you could handle Palumbo," he said, sitting back and crossing his arms, "I'm just not convinced that you can handle the personal repercussions of handling Palumbo."

Nancy accepted that without response, staring out across the hacienda grounds thoughtfully, "You won't tell Murdock, will you?" she asked under her breath.

Hannibal followed her gaze, "I won't have to, kiddo," his eyes turned towards her, "And besides, it won't matter."

"I hope you're right," she whispered.

After grabbing a light dinner, Murdock and Frankie had headed back to the chopper. Perez checked in with them briefly, before taking off to track the ground troop movement. Frankie dozed off in the co-pilot seat, while Murdock sat there listening idly to the radio traffic. He hoped that Nancy, Hannibal, Face and BA had everything ready on their end. There were way too many things that could go wrong with this plan. But then, that was how Hannibal's plans always were.

Unfortunately, the life of the woman he loved wasn't usually at risk. Perez's off-hand statement about Palumbo being enamored of the woman accompanying the team had been replaying itself over and over in his head since this afternoon. He had suspected what Nancy was walking into, even though she seemed loathe to accept it. In the end, it didn't matter, they were all playing the cards they were dealt. He hoped that she wouldn't try to use Palumbo as the next reason to back out of their relationship. When they got back from this mess, he was going to do his best to seal the deal, whether she liked it or not.

He checked the chopper systems one more time, before laying back and tipping his hat over his eyes. He wasn't going to do anyone any good if he didn't get some rest.

Palumbo came up to his room late that night, finding Nancy still sitting on the veranda. She had found the veranda offered a good view of most of the grounds, and had been watching the hacienda routines with interest.

Palumbo came up behind her, leaning down, lifting her hair, and kissing her neck, "It's late," he said seductively, "Let's go to bed."

"Come sit with me," Nancy countered, "It's a beautiful night. Just look at the stars."

Palumbo pulled a chair over next to Nancy and sat down, "You seem melancholy, Chiquita."

She looked over at him. His dark eyes shown in the moonlight, reminiscent of another pair of brown eyes that she had become far too accustomed to seeing, "Do you ever tire of living lies, Antonio?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I've spent so many years living lies, that sometimes it's hard to tell which lie is the truth any more," she looked out toward the grounds, noting the two guards meeting in the courtyard, conversing briefly, then moving on in opposite directions to continue their rounds. This routine had occurred regularly, every half hour, all evening.

"That life is over now, Chiquita," Palumbo said soothingly, "We will build a new life together. There need be no more lies, especially between us."

He stood up, taking her hand, "Come, let's go to bed. Everything is clearer by the light of day. Night is better for love than philosophy."

She followed submissively, thinking that she was still pretty good at the lies. Unfortunately, this one was taking all of her concentration to pull off. Luckily, she only had to keep it up for a short while longer. As her view of the courtyard vanished, she caught one final glimpse of the cigar glow that marked where Hannibal stood, keeping a watchful eye on the hacienda grounds, and waiting patiently for the fireworks to start.

Cocktails, Anyone? 

Murdock and Frankie took off about two hours ahead of schedule, flying directly towards Palumbo's fields. That was their first target, unbeknownst to Perez. The plan was to create a diversion, hopefully drawing some of Palumbo's men away from the hacienda. They also were leaving some gifts for Perez's men, for later. Murdock set down in the clearing that he found on that first morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago. He and Frankie grabbed their guns and made their way to the edge of the field. They quickly laid a perimeter line, with explosives spaced every 50 feet, around the far edge of the fields, well away from the workers.

Then they headed back to the chopper, taking to the air, and doing a quick low sweep over the fields, dropping grenades as a calling card. Murdock dropped over the helipad, near the fields, and Frankie dropped a few sticks of dynamite into the fuel storage building, and watched in appreciation, as the fuel lit in an impressive explosion. Murdock caught site of Nolan, who came running out of the main building, and pointed him out to Frankie.

Frankie dropped some more grenades strategically, isolating Nolan in the center of the clearing. Murdock dropped the chopper like a rock, and jumped out, holding his pistol pointed unerringly at Nolan's head, "Let's go, Mr. Nolan. We have a date to keep."

Nolan raised his hands, and Murdock quickly frisked him, taking his handgun, and then motioning to Frankie, "Cuff his hands, then cuff him to the chopper. We gotta get movin', or we're gonna be late."

Nolan was quickly secured in the chopper and they were lifting off before any of the other goons could get their bearings. Murdock looked at Frankie, whose eyes were bright with excitement. He smiled, even Frankie was catching the jazz, it was definitely contagious. As they started over the ridge, Frankie hit the trigger on the perimeter explosives, making it appear that there were reinforcements coming from that direction.

Hannibal caught the commotion in the courtyard, near dawn the next morning, and watched with interest as men began scurrying towards the helipad. Hearing the telltale thrum of the approaching chopper, Hannibal smiled as the first crew left the hacienda, to be followed by a second crew just a few minutes later. They were carefully following helipad protocol.

Nathan came by him at a slow jog, "Appears someone has attacked the fields and kidnapped Mr. Nolan, Colonel," he said as he hurried by, and up to Palumbo's private suite.

Hannibal smiled, "Alright, guys, that's our cue," he said to the two shadowy figures lounging behind him, "Let's get in position to neutralize the helipad for Murdock." The three men moved silently, getting into position on the hacienda roof, ready for their signal.

Luther reached Palumbo's bedroom, and opened the door, "Mr. Palumbo, there is a situation out at the fields."

Palumbo rolled over and grunted irritably, "Perez, again?"

"It would appear so sir, and it seems there are ground troops, as well as air support. Also, they've . . . they've taken Mr. Nolan, sir."

"You've sent out reinforcements?" Palumbo asked.

"Yes, sir," Luther said, "Third shift was sent to help."

"Very well," Palumbo said, "Keep me apprised of developments."

"Yes, sir."

Palumbo rolled back over, "Well, Chiquita, I'm afraid it will not be a relaxing day," he said, leaning down and kissing her roughly, "Though, having you here certainly is pleasant."

Nancy smiled up at him lazily, "A little diversion before starting your day might be fun," she suggested with a smile.

Palumbo heard the approaching chopper a split second before Nancy did, "No time, Chiquita," Palumbo said, his voice low and urgent, "Get up and get dressed."

Nancy did as she was told. Palumbo pulled on his pants, then snatched the phone up, "Get reinforcements to the gate, now. I want two men on the antiaircraft. I want to be ready for Perez if he makes a move on the hacienda."

He pulled his shirt on, buttoning it impatiently, he grabbed Nancy's arm, "Come, Chiquita, you'll be safest in the holding cell area. It's reinforced, and there are many men down there. Go there and stay put."

Nancy slipped her feet into her shoes, then hurried out the door and down the stairs. Palumbo was right behind her, with Luther and two other men on either side of him, speaking in rapid, urgent Spanish, relating that there were incoming choppers.

"Where is the A-Team?" Palumbo asked.

Nancy turned, "They probably went to the helipad – that would be the best vantage point for any attack."

"She's right, that's probably where they are," Palumbo said, turning on his heel and heading back up to the helipad, "Get her to the holding cells, and keep her safe," he said to Luther.

They were close enough now that Murdock knew they knew what was coming, so he gave Frankie the thumbs up and Frankie dropped his last grenade to the forest floor.

When they heard the explosion, the Team moved, quickly neutralizing the guards on the roof, and disabling the anti-aircraft weapons to make them useless. Hannibal ordered Face to keep the helipad secured, while he and BA headed down to retrieve Fred Littleford.

Luther took Nancy's arm, and led her purposely down the rest of the stairs and out into the courtyard. Along the way, Nancy managed to get a rock, and slip it into her jacket pocket. They made it to the holding cells in under five minutes on the run, ducking into the central hallway. He took her down to Freddie's cell and left her in the care of the guard there. All of the other personnel had been called up into the courtyard, leaving only the loan guard. After Luther disappeared out of the holding cells, Nancy looked at the guard with a pleasant smile, before taking out the rock and hitting him over the head. As the guard slumped against the wall, Nancy grabbed the keys, and his hand gun. She slipped the gun into her waist band before opening Freddie's cell and hurrying over to the agent.

"Fred," Nancy said urgently, listening as the explosions started, "Freddie, can you hear me?"

Fred Littleford opened his one good eye and looked at Nancy with a brave attempt at a smile, "Sat ooo, Nun?"

"Don't try to talk," Nancy said, taking a hasty inventory of Fred's injuries. The most detrimental to their departure was a badly broken leg that hadn't been set. She carefully helped Fred turn to his back, looking at the leg critically, "It's going to have to be immobilized before we can move you, Fred," she said, casting about for something to use as a splint.

She ran out into the hall way, scooping up a small rustic table and smashing it against the wall. Retrieving one of the legs, she hurried back into the cell, carefully moving the board under the broken leg. She ripped some strips of material from her shirt, securely trussing Fred's leg to the board.

As Murdock topped the ridge and the hacienda came into sight, he smiled as he caught the mirror signal. Hannibal and the guys hadn't let him down, "We're good to go, Frankie," he said, "You ready?"

"I was born ready," Frankie said excitedly, pulling the crate of bottles forward and checking his lighter. It was time for the fireworks.

Murdock and Frankie made short work of the 5 towers, watching as flaming goons took dives to avoid being blown to bits. Murdock could see Perez's men streaming through the main gates, but as yet had not caught a glimpse of Nancy or any of the team. Meanwhile, Perez's men seemed to be shooting indiscriminately, and Murdock felt his gut tighten as the number of prone, unidentified bodies lying in the courtyard, multiplied.

One, Two, Rescue 

Palumbo burst onto the hacienda roof, quickly taking in the four trussed guards. But as he reached back to pull out his gun, he felt a gun in his back, "Uh, uh, uh, Mr. Palumbo," Face said, retrieving the gun and slipping it into his jacket pocket as he moved around in front of him. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "Here, put these on."

When Palumbo hesitated, Face pressed the gun to his temple, "I could make this easier on myself and just shoot you," Face said matter-of-factly.

Palumbo slipped the cuffs on, and Face checked to make sure they were secured, just as Murdock topped the roof, and set down. He jumped off the chopper, "Face, are we set?"

Perez's chopper appeared, and set down next to Murdock's. Perez walked over, looking at Palumbo appraisingly, "Well, hello Antonio," he said mockingly, "It appears this time, I have the upper hand."

Murdock grabbed Perez's arm, "You better get a handle on your men, Perez," he said angrily, "They're shooting everything that moves."

Perez walked over to the roof's edge, held up a flare gun and squeezed off three flares, the shooting ended abruptly, "Is that more to your liking, Captain?" Perez asked with a broad smile.

"Thank you," Murdock said sincerely, hoping that it wasn't too late.

The silence was deafening, and Nancy pulled out the guard's gun, snapping off the safety, and holding it ready. When Hannibal's head appeared around the door, she gasped in relief, "Hannibal, we're gonna need a stretcher," Hannibal smiled as BA came in carrying a collapsible stretcher from one of the hacienda first aid kits, "Mr. Palumbo is well supplied," Hannibal said.

He and BA got Fred transferred onto the stretcher, and headed out of the holding cells, with Nancy following close behind. They made their way at a slow run to the helipad.

Turning to Palumbo, Murdock prodded him roughly with his hand gun, "You can join your buddy on the bird, Mr. Palumbo," he said sharply.

Face followed, and secured Palumbo in the chopper. Murdock looked at Perez, "As soon as we have Littleford and the rest of the team, we'll get out of your hair, Mr. Perez."

"I could use some good men like you and your friends, Captain," Perez said, smiling, "I could make it well worth your while."

"No thanks," Hannibal said tightly, as they topped the stairs from the courtyard, "Captain, get ready to get this bird in the air."

"Yes, sir," Murdock said, relief evident in his voice, as he caught sight of Nancy trailing BA.

Hannibal and BA deposited their burden in the rear of the chopper, "Nancy, your riding shotgun. C'mon guys, let's blow this popsicle stand."

They were lifting off moments later. As they topped the ridge, there was a huge explosion behind them, at the hacienda, and Hannibal smiled, "I love it when a plan comes together!"

Murdock turned in his seat, "Just one more job before we make our exit, Colonel."

"You know the plan, Captain," Hannibal said, the jazz still flashing in his ice blue eyes, "Let's finish this."

The Journey Home 

They decimated the current crop in Palumbo's field, also destroying the landing pad and office there, before heading back to the air field. They wasted no time in transferring everyone to the cargo plane. While the rest were securing everything in the cabin, Nancy and Murdock headed to the cockpit to complete the pre-flight and warm the engine up. Their conversation was totally utilitarian until they were off the ground and at cruising altitude.

Nancy leaned back, finally starting to relax after two days of constant tension. She glanced over at Murdock, noting that he still sat rigidly in his seat, "HM, are you OK?"

"I'm not the one with the black and blue face," he responded irritably, then glanced over at her, smiling apologetically, "Sorry, it's just that . . . that went way too smooth. Guess I'm kinda waitin' for the other shoe to drop."

"It was a good plan, well executed," Nancy said distractedly, glancing back towards the cabin, "Maybe there is no other shoe."

"Could be," Murdock said, though his tone belied his words, "But I've worked with Hannibal long enough to know that with his plans, there's usually lots of other shoes, and they're usually being slung at us like grenades."

Nancy chuckled, her eyes darting back towards the cabin again, "I never thought of you as a pessimist."

"I'm not," Murdock agreed, "But where Hannibal's plans are concerned it pays to be prepared for any and all possibilities."

He caught her looking back towards the cabin again, and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "Why don't you go on back and see how Fred is doing?" he suggested.

"Sorry, was it that obvious?" she asked apologetically, "Are you sure you don't mind? It'll only take a minute."

"Sure I'm sure and take your time," he said, smiling, "I just ask that if you hear anti-aircraft fire, or start noticing evasive maneuvers, you get your cute little butt back up here to help."

Nancy stood up, and started towards the door, then stopped and leant down, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, "Thanks, HM."

"Any time, Short Cake," Murdock said, his mood lightening considerably.

Nancy made her way back to the cabin. Ignoring Palumbo's glares, she walked straight back to where Hannibal was providing first aid to Fred Littleford, who lay on a pad of emergency blankets on a fold down shelf in the cargo area.

Hannibal glanced up as she approached, "How are things up front?"

"Still a little tense," Nancy said, "Murdock says he's waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Hannibal chuckled, "Yea, so am I," he agreed, as he finished cleaning out a deep cut on Fred's arm, and started slathering it with antibiotic cream followed by a clean bandage.

"How's he doing?" Nancy asked, feeling Fred's head.

"He's got a bad infection," Hannibal said, "Probably here, there, and everywhere, from the looks of it. I'm cleaning up what I can but the leg is going to require a doctor. It's been broke long enough that it's gonna be impossible to field set. It could be a pretty ugly injury."

"But, he is alive, and in time, he'll be fine," Hannibal added, seeing the distress on Nancy's face.

"He's got a wife and a 2-year-old at home, Colonel," she said tightly.

"And because we were able to get him out of there, he'll get to see that little one grow up," Hannibal said, "He's luckier then a lot of men I've known."

Nancy looked at Hannibal in surprise, and nodded, "Thanks for the perspective," she said quietly, "It's easy to lose sometime."

"I got lots of perspective," Hannibal said grinning, "If you get carried out of the battle alive, you're doin' good. If you walk out you're doin' better. Hell, I figure I must be doin' damn near perfect, this time."

Face watched Nancy pass, then stood and headed up to the cockpit. He hadn't seen Murdock to talk to him for a couple days.

As he opened the door, Murdock turned around, "That was quick . . . oh, Face, it's you."

Face dropped into the copilot's seat that Nancy had just vacated, "Good to see you, too," he said with a teasing smile.

Murdock chuckled, "No offense, oh Facial One."

"How did things go with Perez?"

"About like you'd expect," Murdock said, "He didn't exactly trust us, but his greed wouldn't let him pass up that kind of payoff."

"Well, we handed him the brass ring . . . laced with explosives," Face said with an amused grin.

"But, you know Perez is going to rebuild," Murdock countered.

But, we slowed him way down, at least for awhile," Face said matter-of-factly, "It's about the best you can do in the war against drugs, buddy."

"I guess you're right," Murdock said, "Just seems like an awful lot of risk for only a little payoff."

"We got Fred Littleford out alive," Face said.

"I hadn't thought of that," Murdock agreed, nodding thoughtfully.

They sat in the comfortable silence borne of years of being friends. Face broke the silence with a change of subject, "So, are you and Nancy OK?"

Murdock looked at Face searchingly before answering, "I don't know why we wouldn't be," he said quietly, "My feelings haven't changed."

"Good," Face said, "Because the last couple days have been pretty hard on her."

Murdock's eyebrows shot up, "You're _worried_ about _Nan_?"

"Not worried, per se," Face corrected, "It's just, well, you know she really cares about you."

"She told you this?" Murdock asked in surprise.

"Yes, she did," Face said, "You should probably know that she's pretty reluctant about accepting the whole thing, but I think you gotta shot buddy, and I don't want to see you screw it up."

"I thought you wanted me to dump her."

"I felt threatened," Face said flatly.

"Ok, why do you think I'm going to screw what up?"

"She loves you, HM," Face said urgently, "She really does. And it about killed her to . . . _be_ with Palumbo, but she really didn't have any choice."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Murdock asked incredulously, "You think I'm going to hold it against her that she had sex with Palumbo? C'mon, Face, you know me better than that."

"Of course I do," Face said quietly, "But she might not. You gotta tell her it's OK. She's beating herself up over it, and you're the only one who can stop it."

"Oh," Murdock said as understanding dawned.

"Avoiding the inevitable, Clay?" Hannibal asked, looking at Nancy shrewdly. She had helped him finish cleaning Fred up, best they could with their first aid kit, and was now sitting on the cabin floor, watching the DEA agent intently.

"What are you talking about?" Nancy asked innocently.

"Don't be dense, girl," Hannibal said shaking his head, "Get up to the cockpit and talk to Murdock."

Nancy glanced back at Palumbo, then looked at the floor, "I don't know what I'd do if . . ."

"There is no 'if' in this scenario," Hannibal said, "Murdock is not going to care about what did or didn't happen with Palumbo. It's irrelevant, so stop worrying about it."

"Thanks, Hannibal," Nancy said, and though she didn't look or sound convinced, she took his advice and headed back up to the cockpit.

When Nancy opened the cockpit door, she found Murdock and Face cheering, "Hey Short Cake," Murdock said happily, "We are officially out of Columbian air space."

Nancy smiled, "Hallelujah," she said, "Is that what you're celebrating?"

"Any reason to let off some steam," Face said, standing up, "Here, I believe I'm in your seat."

"That's OK . . ."

"No, I insist, you sit," Face said, moving past her and giving her a gentle shove towards the copilot seat, "I'm going back to watch Palumbo glare around the cabin some more. He's bound to break the silence soon, and I don't want to miss it."

Nancy sat down as the door closed behind Face. She checked the instruments as a matter of habit as she pulled on the headphones.

"So, how's Fred doin'?" Murdock asked solicitously.

"Like Hannibal said, he's gonna live," Nancy said, "He's got a couple pretty bad injuries, but nothing life threatening."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Murdock glanced at her, "Nan, I know what happened at Palumbo's hacienda," he said quietly, "I don't care - really."

"I know," she said, then looked at him ruefully, "But I do."

"Don't start that again," he responded irritably, flipping a switch forcefully to darken a blinking amber light on the dashboard. He looked at her darkly, adding angrily, "We had a deal!"

His look immediately softened at her crestfallen gaze, "I'm sorry. It's just . . . can't we put all of this behind us and start fresh once we get back to Langley?"

Nancy looked away, and Murdock grabbed her wrist, forcing her to turn her attention back to him, "I'll walk through fire for you, Short Cake. But you gotta start layin' down some suppressant or I'm gonna be charred once I get to ya."

She grimaced, as she took that analogy to the next chapter, "I'm working on it, HM," she assured him, trying a weak smile.

"Does that mean we're OK?" he asked, releasing her wrist and sitting back, looking at her shrewdly.

She sat back, taking hold of the control wheel to steady herself, "I guess that remains to be seen," she said truthfully, then smiled, "Let's try running with another analogy, since it really disturbs me to think of you as charred remains . . . How about this - I'm ready to weather the hurricane if you are. Right now, we're headed through the eye of the storm," she turned and looked at him intently, "But the next front could be a real killer."

"The mission is over, Nan," Murdock said, shaking his head, "What could possibly be worse than that?"

"General Hunt Stockwell," she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I kinda forgot about him," Murdock admitted, then shrugged nonchalantly, "So we keep things under wraps for awhile longer. I can live with that. And once the Team has their pardons, which can't be that far off, then what's the worst he can do? Fire you?" he looked at her with a quizzical grin, "That's not all bad, is it?"

Nancy shook her head, reflecting his smile, but her jaw tightened as she looked stalwartly out the window. She still couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth, and besides, at this point, it could be more detrimental then helpful to the whole situation. At least that was what she kept telling herself.


	4. Finale

Well, here's the finale to An Abel Beginning. I leave one story line hanging – sorry, but have to leave something for a sequel. Hopefully it wraps up enough to satisfy, as I haven't even started writing on the next one, and not sure when I'll get to it.

As always – please read and review. Oh yea, and I don't own the A-Team, ya da ya day a da . . .

US Air 

Nancy managed to turn the conversation towards more innocuous subjects, as the flight home continued. Luckily, she and Murdock didn't seem to lack for mutually interesting topics to discuss, and the time passed quickly. They had both finally started relaxing when Hannibal came up to the front.

"ETA to the US?" Hannibal asked sharply.

Murdock verified their position, then answered, "30 to 40 minutes, Colonel."

Nancy looked at the tension in Hannibal's face, "What's wrong, Hannibal?"

"Fred's fever has spiked," Hannibal said, "I don't think medical attention can wait until Langley."

"Miami's the closest metro area once we hit US Air space," Murdock said.

"I'll contact the General, and have him make arrangements for an ambulance to be waiting when we land," Nancy said, pulling out her satellite phone.

"Good, I'll get him bundled and ready to move."

As Hannibal backed out of the cockpit, Murdock was making course adjustment, while Nancy called the General, on his private line, "General, Abel 5, we are currently over international waters, ETA to Miami is 45 minutes. Littleford needs medical attention."

"Only Littleford?" Stockwell asked.

"Yes," Nancy said.

Nancy could hear muffled voices, then Stockwell came back on the line, "An ambulance will be waiting when you land. Mission status?"

"Successful," Nancy responded.

"Palumbo and Nolan?"

"In custody."

"Very good," there was a pregnant pause, before Stockwell continued, "The DEA is lobbying to have you taken into custody, along with Palumbo and Nolan. It may be unavoidable, at least in the short term."

"I'm not surprised, are you?" Nancy asked.

"No," the General said quietly, and Nancy could hear his chair creak as he leaned back, "I am working on negotiating to have you released into my custody."

"I would expect nothing less," Nancy said.

"I have half a mind to confine you to Langley," Stockwell said tightly.

Nancy gritted her teeth, she had hoped to talk to the General herself before he realized what she and Trixie were working on, "You could try," she said, her tone slightly challenging.

"I do not appreciate you and Able 12 working behind my back – especially on this particular project."

"I expressed my displeasure at the situation before we left, so the work wasn't technically behind your back," Nancy countered. She took a deep breath deciding it was best to wait to tirade the General, "We can discuss the issue further when I arrive in Langley."

"You're damn right, we will," the General said irritably, "Until then, keep your nose clean."

"My nose _is_ clean," Nancy said flatly, "I am not the one making promises I can't keep."

"You are being insubordinate."

"So what's new?" Nancy asked, ending the call abruptly. She knew from experience that the conversation would just deteriorate from there – and Murdock was already looking overtly curious.

She checked their heading, "Course adjustment is complete?"

"Yes," Murdock said, "Was that the General?"

When Nancy nodded, he continued, "What was that all about?"

Nancy glanced at him sideways, choosing to provide a partial truth, "The DEA wants me taken into custody along with Palumbo and Nolan."

"What?" Murdock asked incredulously.

"It's not that unusual," Nancy said with a shrug, "There'll have to be an investigation into the whole situation, and until then, I probably appear just as culpable as Nolan."

Murdock was shaking his head, "But you came down to Columbia and helped us get Littleford out alive."

"No offense, HM," Nancy said, smiling, "But a private agent, reported rogue, traveling to Columbia with a group of men convicted of murdering a US Army officer, ostensibly to throw in with a drug lord is not a pretty picture to the proper authorities."

"When you put it that way, it does sound pretty bad," Murdock agreed, with a grimace."

"Nothing to worry about," Nancy said matter-of-factly, "The General will take care of it, and the truth will come out of the investigation. It just may take some time."

"I don't know," Murdock said uncertainly, "I don't have a lot of faith in the government's ability to uncover the truth."

"Perhaps not, but I do have faith in the General," Nancy said, chuckling humorlessly, "As much as he pisses me off at times, I have no doubt that he'll make sure I'm cleared."

"You have a lot more faith in _the General_ than I do, too," Murdock grunted.

"Yea, I suppose if I were in your position, I wouldn't trust him either," she looked at him ruefully, "How much longer until you get your pardons?"

"I don't need a pardon, I'm nuts, remember?" Murdock said sourly.

"Sorry," Nancy said quietly.

Murdock sighed, "No, I'm sorry, Short Cake," he said repentantly, "We're only a mission away, from my figuring, but the General doesn't always agree with the mission rating, so it's kinda hard to track."

"How long have you been in Langley?" Nancy asked.

"The Team's been in Langley about 13 months," he said, "I followed about a month later. Took me a little while to convince the Doc that I should be released."

"How did the General get involved with the A-Team?"

Murdock's jaw tensed, and the self-recriminating look on his face peaked Nancy's curiosity, which was only whetted further by his response, "After the sentencing, I didn't know what else to do," he said quietly, then looked at her, "I called the General, and asked him to help."

"But how did you know the General?"

"I served under him in Army Intelligence," Murdock explained.

Nancy's brow furrowed, "Not the CIA?"

"What made you ask that?" Murdock was looking at her narrowly.

"Just . . . something the General said . . .," she said uncertainly.

"Like I told ya, Nan," Murdock said resignedly, "There's a lot of history between Stockwell and me. And most of it ain't good."

"Then why did he help?"

"Because what self-respecting spook CEO wouldn't want to have a group like the A-Team indentured to him?" Murdock said bitterly.

"I'm so sorry, HM," Nancy said sincerely.

"Hey, you just work for the guy, Short Cake," Murdock said, missing the pained look that crossed Nancy's face briefly, "I suppose there are worse things that could have happened. At least BA, Face, and Hannibal are still alive."

Nancy nodded, her resolve to secure the Team's pardons deepening, "HM, When we get back to Langley, I'm gonna have to leave town for a few days," she said, rather suddenly, "I'll be gone a week at the most . . ."

"You're just getting back from mission, why do you have to leave town again?" Murdock interrupted petulantly.

"I have to finish something that I started before we left for Columbia," Nancy said cryptically, "I'll call if I can and I'll explain everything when I get back, I promise. Please just . . . just trust me."

Murdock sighed, "I trust you, Short Cake," he shook his head as he looked out the window, mumbling, "Not sure why, but I do."

"I'm not sure why you do, either," Nancy smiled at him gratefully, "But I'm glad you do. Thanks, HM."

Their conversation was interrupted by the radio, "Unidentified aircraft, you are approaching US Air Space, respond immediately or change course."

Langley Landing 

After making it through the official barriers, they headed straight to Miami, but their stop there was brief. The General ordered them back into the air with Palumbo and Nolan. When they arrived in Langley, the air field was a sea of official-looking black sedans.

As they shut down the plane, Nancy looked out the window nervously, then turned to Murdock, "We probably aren't going to have any privacy at all in a few minutes, HM," she said urgently, "Remember what we talked about. We have to keep it quiet, at least for a little while longer. I promise I'll be in touch as soon as I can."

"The sooner the better, Short Cake," Murdock said seriously, then grinned at her hopefully, "How about one last kiss to tide me over?"

Nancy smiled, and they leaned across the intervening distance, a light kiss leading to a mutual desire to be closer together. Unfortunately, the position was awkward with the controls between them, and they couldn't satisfy that desire, no matter how they moved.

They practically leapt apart as the cockpit door slammed open, and General Stockwell walked in. They looked at each other in slight panic, wondering just what the General had seen in that split second. To their collective relief, he appeared to be oblivious to what he was interrupting.

"Abel 5, you're with me," the General said shortly. Sparing Murdock a brief glance he added tersely, "Wrap things up here, Captain, and head back to the cabin."

"I just have to finish post-flight . . .," Murdock started.

"Doc will take care of the plane, Captain," Stockwell interrupted, "Finish shutting down, and get back to the cabin."

Murdock nodded, as Stockwell took Nancy by the arm, none too gently, and practically dragged her through the door.

In the cabin, Hannibal was standing behind Palumbo and Nolan with his arms crossed, "What's the game plan from here, General?" he asked.

The General released Nancy's arm, looking coldly at Nolan and Palumbo, "The FBI will be taking these two into custody for the time being, until the investigation into the DEA involvement is complete. Larimer has been implicated, along with two other lower level DEA agents, but I'm not convinced we've fully cleared house yet."

He looked at Nancy, "You _are_ going to have to go with them temporarily."

"How temporarily?" Nancy asked shortly. Her window of opportunity to complete the work Trixie had started was very narrow.

"A few hours at most, and I'll have you released into my custody."

"And will you be confining me?" Nancy asked levelly.

"That remains to be seen," the General said, crossing his arms and looking at her shrewdly, "Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?"

"You know the answer to that," Nancy said edgily, noting the curious gazes of the Team, she added flatly, "It would be preferable if we could discuss this in private."

While they were talking, four men in dark suits had boarded and moved towards the group ominously, "We'll take it from here, General," One of them said, taking Nancy's arm.

Nancy jerked her arm away, warning in a low voice, "Back off Tackett."

The General was shaking his head, "You can take Nolan and Palumbo, but my agent and I still have business. She will be with you shortly."

"General, my orders are clear . . .," Tackett started.

But the General's expression left no room for debate, "I know what your orders are, Agent Tackett," he said darkly, "I am telling you that you can wait until I escort Agent Clay off of the plane. Until then, your orders are on hold."

Tackett took a deferential step back, "We'll wait outside," he nodded to the other agents, who took Palumbo and Nolan, and all of them left the plane.

Stockwell turned to Hannibal, "Colonel, you and your men will return directly to the Compound, and wait for me there. Frank is waiting for you with the limo now."

Sometime during the conversation, Murdock had materialized out of the cockpit, "What's going on?"

"You have been dismissed," the General responded, encompassing all of them in the comment, "I will see you back at the Compound."

"What about Nancy?" Hannibal asked, teeth locked on his cigar and arms still crossed.

"Abel 5 is not your concern any longer, Colonel," Stockwell said, "_Dismissed_."

"It'll be alright, Colonel," Nancy said, "I'll see you in a few days."

Hannibal looked from Nancy to the General, then growled, "C'mon guys, let's go."

Murdock was the last off the plane, and cast one last questioning glance back at Nancy, but her attention was already consumed by a nonverbal battle of wills with the General.

As Murdock disappeared, Stockwell turned to Nancy, "What the hell happened to your face?"

Nancy put a hand up to her cheek, feeling the tenderness, that she knew from experience meant there was a lovely blue-green tint to the skin, "Palumbo."

"And tell me, just how much of the story I've been hearing from Larimer is true?"

Nancy crossed her arms, "Every good lie has an element of truth in it, General," she said quietly.

"Don't be smart with me, girl," Stockwell said angrily, "Not only did you engage Palumbo, against direct orders, but you have compromised my credibility by not telling me exactly how far that relationship went."

"Everything in my original report was entirely accurate," Nancy said tightly, "If you wanted the X-rated version, you should have specified. Colonel Smith had no trouble reading between the lines, I don't know why you did."

"Perhaps because I have trouble reconciling the agent you've become with _my niece_," Stockwell said angrily, "I thought you had more common sense, Nancy."

"Common sense is hardly common and sense had very little to do with what happened in Columbia, either before or this time," Nancy said, "I admit that things got out of control. I did the best I could under the circumstances and put in the same situation, I don't see myself changing my decisions. I may be your niece, but you've made it clear that my first priority is being your agent. And a good agent does what is necessary to survive and accomplish the stated objective. Have I failed at that?"

"No, you never have," Stockwell admitted, adding, "Perhaps that's what disturbs me. I had hoped your integrity would guide you in how far to push the envelope."

"You have a lot of nerve talking to me about integrity, given this little deal with the A-Team," Nancy said furiously, "But then, I'm beginning to think that your idea of integrity is different than mine."

"We definitely have different ideas about what is acceptable behavior, and what is not," the General said quietly.

After a few moments, he motioned towards the hatch wearily, "They're waiting. As I said, it will be a few hours before I can finalize your release into my custody . . ."

"And am I to be confined?" Nancy pressed.

Stockwell's gaze hardened, "I don't know what makes you think that the A-Team pardons are any of your business, they have not yet fulfilled the original agreement . . ."

"But as I understand it, you've already tried to negotiate the pardons," Nancy said, adding bitingly, ". . . and failed. They more than earned those pardons on this mission, if not before."

"You don't even know what the original agreement was . . ."

"They've been here for a year, General," Nancy said, "And knowing you, you had no trouble finding sufficient projects to put the Team through their paces. Don't tell me you think they owe you anything."

Stockwell considered her silently for a moment, before responding impassively, "In theory, let us say that I agree with you. How do you propose to succeed where I have failed?"

Nancy recognized the capitulation in that statement, and couldn't help but smile triumphantly, it had been much easier than she had anticipated, "It's all in the approach and the timing, General," she said, her blue eyes sparking with the challenge as they considered him intently, "Give me a chance to prove myself at the negotiating table."

Stockwell looked at her thoughtfully. At times like this, she reminded him eerily of his dead sister, which was incredibly disconcerting. He took a deep breath, and nodded, "Your welcome to take your own beating at the negotiating table," he said dryly, "I will warn you, the Army is not enamored of the idea of letting the A-Team off the hook, which has greatly complicated the entire situation."

"I anticipated that, and have an angle that I think will negate that issue," Nancy said, "But I need to move on it within the week, or the opportunity will evaporate for another year."

"Not asking much, are you?" Stockwell said irritably.

"I need the jet, and the suite in DC for a few days," Nancy said, beginning to pace excitedly, as her mind raced through the things that needed to happen in the short term.

"First, I need to get you released into my custody," Stockwell said, taking her arm and leading her towards the door, "The faster we move on that front, the faster you can get on with your plans."

Nancy smiled, following obediently, "Right."

Hannibal hung back, falling into step next to Murdock as they headed across the tarmac, to where the General's chauffer was waiting with the limo.

"What is going on between Stockwell and Nancy?" Hannibal asked quietly, as they moved swiftly toward the limo, "That hardly seemed like an exchange between an Abel agent and the General."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Colonel," Murdock said tensely, "There's definitely a lot more there than meets the eye."

"She didn't drop any hints on the flight home?"

"She's cagey," Murdock said in frustration, "Said she was leaving town for a few days, but didn't even hint what she was up to. Said she'd explain when she got back."

They climbed into the limo behind Face and BA. As the door closed, Hannibal held out an expectant hand to Face, who immediately placed a cigar in it. Hannibal lit it, then sat back, puffing thoughtfully, "So, any theories as to why Stockwell would be considering confining Abel 5?"

Murdock looked at Hannibal, "When she was on the phone with him, she said something about a situation she wasn't happy about, and that they weren't working behind his back," he shrugged, "I only heard half the conversation, so it's probably not real helpful."

"Well, if she'd lambasted the General like that before, in front of me, I would have warmed up to her way faster," Face said, shaking his head, "She sure wasn't pulling any punches."

"And she didn't seem to be afraid of losing her job," Hannibal said ruminatively, "Almost like she knew he wouldn't fire her."

Murdock shook his head, "Or maybe she just doesn't care if he fires her . . ."

Hannibal shrugged, "Guess we'll just have to wait to find out."

Happy Holding 

Tackett took great pleasure in cuffing Nancy as soon as the General turned her over. Nolan and Palumbo had already left, and Nancy was loaded into the back of another government-issue sedan for transport.

Tackett turned as they pulled out of the air field, "You aren't going to wiggle your way out of this one, Clay."

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, "I'm not wiggling my way out of anything," she said irritably, "We accomplished exactly what we set out to do, and once that's established, I'll be free and clear."

"You're a loose cannon," Tackett said scathingly, "Who couldn't cut it at the FBI and had to rely on nepotism to make it in this business. If you could have figured out how to stay down there with your latin lover, you would have, but the Team is too true blue to allow that, so you had to drop back and punt. You're as guilty as Palumbo and Nolan, and we're going to prove it."

Nancy sighed and sat back, closing her eyes. There was no point in arguing with Tackett.

General Stockwell looked at the man across the desk from him levelly, taking a few deep breaths to keep from launching across that desk and throttling him. Director Jenkins was taking the DEA's side on this one, and was currently insisting that Nancy remain in custody as a flight risk, "Palumbo has said that she was his lover, and that we won't be able to hold either of them. And given that Agent Clay has worked in international espionage for the last 10 years, if she chose to disappear and take Palumbo with her, we would never be able to find them again. I will not release her out of our custody."

"Nancy Clay is no counter agent, and Palumbo will say whatever suits him and gets her into hot water, Director," the General said through gritted teeth, "I assure you that she is not a flight risk. She wants nothing more than to have her involvement in this mess cleared up so she can return to work."

"And I should take the word of a man who employs a group of convicted murderers?" the Director asked derisively.

"The A-Team are dedicated and loyal Americans," the General said angrily, tiring rapidly of the conversation, "I would stack their integrity up against most of the men I've worked with over my career, including you. You had better rethink your current position, or I will go over your head, and perhaps we'll start an internal investigation into the Bureau's activities with the DEA recently. There is much more to this scandal than what you and your people have managed to uncover, which certainly, in my mind, calls your motivation into question. It would certainly explain why you want to have control over my Agent."

"You better watch it General," Jenkins said tightly, "I do not react kindly to veiled threats."

"I'm sorry," Stockwell said scornfully, "I thought I made the threat perfectly clear, Director. Now _release my agent_."

Nancy was taken into holding, uncuffed, and shoved unceremoniously into the cell. She rubbed her wrists, walking slowly around the cell, which was nondescript. She sighed, she hoped the General would get her out of here soon. She hated being locked up, it made her feel slightly panicked.

She dropped onto the cot, and hugged her knees, staring unseeingly at the cell floor and thinking about everything that being in this cell was delaying.

"Hey, Clay."

Nancy looked up in surprise to see Nolan leaning through the bars, two cells away. In the intervening cell, Palumbo sat with his back against the far bars, his head down on his arms. But he raised his head, and looked at her with a barracuda smile, "It's nice to see you again, my dear."

Palumbo unfolded himself gracefully and walked to the wall of bars separating his cell from hers, and held an inviting hand out to her, "Come, Chiquita, come talk to me."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Nancy said quietly, staying right where she was, which was about as far as she could get from Palumbo in the tight quarters.

Palumbo leaned on the bars, and considered her, "I thought we were going to live a life without lies, together, Chiquita. I wasn't wrong was I?"

Nancy didn't respond, and Palumbo continued, "We have something special, my dear. We connected, I know you felt it. We're cut from the same cloth," he smiled, and continued conspiratorially, "I understand, you must continue to play the part. When you are released, come back for me. I have more than enough money to make it possible to disappear and live quite comfortably. It would be a shame to do that alone."

"You're scum, Palumbo," Nancy said quietly, "the only true connection we had, was when your hand connected with my face, and when my foot connected with your head. I think I must have knocked something loose up there."

Palumbo smiled coyly, "Very good, Chiquita. Keep up the pretense. We'll be together soon enough."

Nancy sighed and closed her eyes knowing that this wasn't going to look good. And there was nothing she could do about it. She'd just have to rely on the General, which for some reason didn't give her any comfort. If he wanted an excuse to keep her from her pet project, he sure had it.

An hour later, Tackett came in, walking up to Nancy's cell, and she stood excitedly. Tackett smiled mockingly, "Might as well make yourself comfortable, Clay. You'll be here awhile."

"Then why are you here?" Nancy asked, crossing her arms.

"Just to check in," he said, "Make sure you're comfortable. I thought you'd appreciate being in the same area as you latin lover. There's only a row of bars separating you. If you want some privacy, I could have Nolan moved."

Nancy walked up to the bars, looking at Tackett darkly, "This is a big mistake, Tackett. We should be held in separate areas until all statements are taken. You're mishandling this case and Palumbo and Nolan are both going to walk if you don't straighten up your act."

"Oh, yea, and you've always been real strict about following procedure," Tackett said, "I run this case my way, Clay. And just remember, I want you."

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a fucking idiot?"

"I'm the idiot that's gonna make sure you rot in a federal slammer."

Nancy shook her head, "It won't happen, Tackett. It's a pipe dream and you know it. You want my head on a platter, your hands are gonna have to get bloody."

California, Here I Come 

Trixie paced agitatedly inside the FBI waiting room, her Abel uniform uncharacteristically disheveled. She was anxious to talk to Nancy, and they had kept her waiting in this room for the last hour while they 'processed' her out of holding.

The door opened and Agent Lance Tackett walked in, again, "Where is she?" Trixie asked irritably.

"I told you . . ."

"Cut the bullshit, Tackett," Trixie said, slamming a fist on the conference table, "If Nancy Clay isn't here in 5 minutes, I'm calling the General, and you know that isn't going to be pleasant."

Another agent tapped Tackett on the shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Tackett turned back to her, "I'm sorry for the delay . . ."

"Like hell," Trixie muttered.

Tackett continued as if she hadn't said anything, "As I said, there was a mixup in the holding area, and Agent Clay was caught up in it. We needed her statement before we could release her."

At that moment, Nancy appeared at the doorway, motioning to Trixie, "Let's get the hell out of here," she said without preamble.

"I'm right behind you," Trixie said, shoving past Tackett roughly and following Nancy down the hall.

Trixie fell into step next to Nancy, "What happened in holding?"

"Sons of bitches put me next to Palumbo and Nolan," Nancy said irritably, "They were fishing, and they weren't disappointed."

Trixie looked at Nancy in surprise, "You mean all three of you were in the same holding area? That's against procedure."

"Not when you want to implicate the Abel agent in the fiasco," Nancy said, "They've screwed themselves, royally. Any lawyer worth their salt is going to have a field day with how this is being handled."

They had moved swiftly to the sign out, where they both retrieved their weapons. Nancy settled her shoulder holster into place as she shrugged into her jacket, "Thanks for bringing the change of clothes. But honestly, did it have to be the uniform?"

"I didn't pick 'em out, I just brought the bag the General gave me," she said with a shrug.

They hurried out to the car, and as Trixie started the engine, Nancy looked at her, "So, are you going to bring me up to date, or just keep teasing me?"

Trixie pulled out of the parking place before responding, "I'll fill you in on the way to the air field. The General will be meeting us there to debrief you on the Columbia mission before we leave. Jeff has the jet fueled and waiting for you and the flight plan is already filed for our trip."

"Good, now fill me in."

Debriefing 

Murdock was slouched on an overstuffed chair, his feet propped carelessly on the coffee table, "How much longer do we have to wait?" he whined.

Hannibal shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine, Captain. Until the General gets here, we're all in limbo. Just try to relax. I'm sure everything is fine."

"I didn't like the way Tackett was acting, and Stockwell just handed her over to them, like it was nothin'," Murdock said irritably. He was replaying the scene he'd watched through the back window of the limo as they were pulling away. The FBI had actually cuffed Nancy while the General watched. It made Murdock's blood boil. And now they'd been left hanging for the last several hours. He was rapidly losing patience with the entire situation.

Face leaned forward and turned on the big screen TV, "You gotta quit stewin' about it, Murdock," he said solicitously, "Maybe there's some Woody Woodpecker on somewhere . . ."

"I'm not in the mood for Woody right now, Faceman," Murdock said disconsolately.

Face flipped the TV back off, "OK, then you wanna go shoot some hoops?"

Murdock was shaking his head, when the front door opened and they all sat up. The General strode into the room, stopping in front of the TV that Face had just turned off, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen," he said brusquely, "It took me longer than expected to get Agent Clay out of FBI custody."

"Then Nancy's off the hook?" Hannibal asked.

"Not off the hook, but at least in my custody rather than the government's," Stockwell said bluntly.

"Well then where is she?" Murdock asked.

Stockwell looked at Murdock, "That is not your concern, Captain."

"But she should be here for the debriefing," Hannibal said in explanation, shooting Murdock a warning glance.

"Abel 5 has already been debriefed," Stockwell said, "Now it's time to hear your side of the story," he pushed the record button on a built-in tape recorder and looked at Hannibal expectantly.

Hannibal nodded, launching immediately into a factual account of his, Face's and BA's part of the story, Face and BA interjecting their parts, where appropriate. When he finished, he yielded the stage to Murdock, listening in interest to what Murdock and Frankie had experienced during the mission. The entire saga took about 45 minutes to relate, followed by another 15 minutes of questions and answers with the General.

At the conclusion, Stockwell nodded, turning off the recorder, "I'll have Carla transcribe that and forward the hard copy to you for review and comment," he said, turning to Murdock he added, "I would appreciate it if you would remain here, Captain, until I have cleared up Abel 5's role in this mess. I may need you to relate your story to the authorities, and I don't want to have to hunt you down."

Stockwell took a deep breath, continuing urgently, "I want to be clear on this, gentlemen, I am grateful that you are backing up my niece. Her position in this situation is more tenuous then she realizes."

Hannibal sat forward in surprise, "Your _niece_?" he repeated incredulously.

Stockwell raised a surprised eyebrow, "Nancy is my sister's daughter. And though she doesn't usually advertise the fact I assumed, since you had been on mission together, that she had told you."

"No, she skipped that little piece of information," Hannibal said quietly, his eyes flickering to Murdock's face to check his reaction. To his relief, Murdock's expression gave nothing away.

The General's gaze swept the men in the room, "I hope this doesn't change your story," he said distrustfully.

"We told you what happened," Hannibal said matter-of-factly, "That isn't going to change, whether Nancy is your niece or not."

"Good," Stockwell stood, "I'll be in touch in a day or two, if not before to let you know what is transpiring with the DEA investigation."

Hannibal stood as well, and as the door closed behind the General, he turned and looked incredulously at his assembled men, "I never saw that comin'."

"Sure does explain a lot of things," Face said, looking worriedly at Murdock.

But Murdock's expression was amazingly calm and accepting, "I should have seen the family resemblance," he said with a shake of his head, "She may not look anything like him, but man does she ever have the General's attitude."

Hannibal grunted in amusement, "Amen to that."

Building Trust 

The flight to Chicago was uneventful, but busy. After hitting cruising altitude, Nancy left the jet in Jeff's capable hands and went back to join Trixie, spending the remainder of the brief flight in discussions regarding the objectives of the trip. Once in Chicago, Trixie disembarked, heading into the city to collect Mrs. Baracus, while Jeff and Nancy continued on to Los Angeles.

Once in LA, Nancy headed straight to Amy Allen's apartment. She stood at the door of the apartment, squarely in front of the peep hole and waited patiently for the occupant to answer. She knew Miss Allen was home, Trixie had agents tailing Amy Amanda Allen since she'd located her, and Nancy had been briefed on her routines thoroughly on the flight from Langley.

"Who is it?"

"Miss Allen, I'm Nancy Clay. My partner, Trixie Martin left you a message telling you I would be coming," Nancy hated talking to a closed door, but had decided quickly that the direct route would probably be best, "I really need to talk to you about the A-Team."

The door opened until it caught on the chain, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nancy quickly stepped forward, placing a foot in the opening to ensure unimpeded conversation, and looking at Amy earnestly, "You and I both know that _that_ is an outright lie, Miss Allen. Now I'm not with the Military, and I need your help to get the A-Team out of the predicament they're in, and on with their lives, which from my understanding should interest you. Are you going to open this door and talk to me civilly? Or are you going to oblige me to take a more forceful approach? It's up to you."

Amy gave Nancy a level, calculating gaze, "I'm not accustomed to being threatened in my own home, Agent Clay."

"It's not a threat, Ms. Allen. It's a promise," Nancy said, smiling humorlessly, "I need your help, and I'm not leaving here until you open this door and talk to me."

Amy's jaw set stubbornly, but she relented slightly, "If you'll move your foot, _Agent Clay_, I will let you in, and we can _talk_."

Nancy stepped back and the door closed briefly, then opened wide, "You have 5 minutes to tell me what you want before I call the police," Amy said irritably, "And 30 seconds are gone already, so you better talk fast."

Nancy walked into the apartment and noted that nearly everything was still in boxes. Amy had returned from Jakarta nearly 3 months earlier, but was apparently in no hurry to make herself at home, "Still unpacking?"

Amy walked over and picked up the phone threateningly, "I'm calling the police . . ."

Nancy strode over and pressed the lever on the phone, "Trust me, you want to hear me out . . ."

Nancy glanced at Amy surreptitiously. She sat sullenly in the passenger seat of the rental car, as they drove towards Red Rock. Amy had been very reluctant about helping, her distrust of Nancy obvious, but when Major Margaret Sullivan had agreed readily to talking with Nancy, Amy had decided to go along. Nancy just hoped that Maggie Sullivan would be less reticent then Amy, and not only willing to help, but able to persuade the younger woman to help as well.

They arrived in town, and Amy indicated the turn to get to Maggie's office. They pulled into the empty lot in front of the house and both got out and walked up the front steps.

Maggie met them at the door, "Amy, it is so nice to see you." The two women greeted with a warm embrace.

"This is Abel Agent Nancy Clay," Amy said disdainfully, indicating Nancy who stood slightly behind her, "She says she needs our help to negotiate the Team's pardons."

Maggie held out a hand, and Nancy was greeted with a firm handshake, "Agent Clay, good to meet you. Please, come in."

They walked through a modest, but comfortable waiting area, down a short hall past two small examining rooms, through to the rear living quarters. Maggie indicated chairs for her guests and offered and prepared refreshments before finally taking a seat herself.

She looked at Nancy curiously, "Well, Agent Clay, as you can imagine, we're both a bit skeptical of your intentions. The A-Team was put in front of a firing squad seemingly because of your employer," she looked at Amy thoughtfully, "However, if there's a chance that you could be on the up and up . . . well, I owe it to John to at least let you have your say."

"I really appreciate that Major Sullivan . . ."

"Drop the title, and just call me Maggie," she said brusquely, "I have marginally more patience than Amy, and more then a healthy amount of distrust for anyone associated with Stockwell. Say your piece and _don't _try to bullshit me or I'll throw you out on your ear. Are we clear?"

Nancy smiled, she liked this woman already, "Crystal," she agreed readily, continuing without prompting, "As I believe you are both at least somewhat aware, the Team has been working for the past year for Stockwell Enterprises, in a bid to secure their pardons. General Stockwell began pardon negotiations with the Military approximately 3 months ago, but has hit a stone wall that he can't seem to surmount. The Military is more than a little stubborn about granting amnesty to a group of men who have made fools of them on more than one occasion."

"Understand, ladies, that the General doesn't necessarily agree with the tact that I am proposing, but is willing to let me take my own licks at the negotiating table. I am quite willing if there is a chance that I can show him up," Nancy let that justification for her own involvement sink in for a moment before continuing, "It's appropriations time in DC, and we are in the process of arranging meetings with key Congressmen and Senators on the military appropriations committees. Your roll in these meetings is to garner sympathy for the A-Team. You're the carrot. I'll hold the stick."

Maggie's face remained impassive, "And the stick would be?"

"I have Bart Worth, from the New York Times on the sidelines, salivating over the A-Team comeback story. That story can have one of two slants, and the politicians are obviously going to favor the more upbeat of the two, particularly in right before a mid-term election. I think we can exert enough political leverage to force the Military to sanction the pardons."

Amy's eyes were narrow, "If this is true, can I have the west coast byline?"

Nancy looked at her levelly, "Does that mean you're agreeing to help?"

Amy looked at her recalcitrant, and Nancy crossed her arms, "It's up to you ladies – this is the Team's last shot at freedom. Are you going to help me, or not?"

"I will," Maggie said, and Amy nodded vaguely. Nancy sighed, at least they were moving in the right direction.

Back to Chicago 

A few hours later, they were back at the jet, and Nancy led Maggie and Amy on board, and motioned around, "Make yourselves comfortable, I have to go up front and prepare for the flight," she left without any further explanation.

Nancy slammed into the cock pit, startling Jeff, who was already working on the pre-flight checks.

"Went that well, huh?" Jeff asked, taking in the tension on Nancy's face.

"They're both here, aren't they?" Nancy snapped, then sighed, "Sorry, Jeff. Ms. Allen is less then enthusiastic about the trip, but she's coming along because Major Sullivan is. Somehow between now and when we begin our meetings, I'm going to have to figure out how to get her on board, but I'm too tired to figure it out right now."

They finished the pre-flight, then Nancy glanced back towards where Amy and Maggie were, "I should go back and get them settled . . ." she didn't sound thrilled with the idea.

Jeff stood up, "Don't sweat it, Nan. I'll take care of making our guests comfortable."

Amy paced the inside of the cabin, exploring the meager furnishings, "So, do you think this is on the up and up, Mags?"

"It would appear so," Maggie said, sitting calmly on one of the seats, and leafing through a magazine disinterestedly.

"I don't know," Amy said uncertainly, "I don't trust that Nancy Clay . . ."

Maggie set the magazine aside and watched Amy wandering aimlessly about the cabin, "I believe what she said," she said matter-of-factly, "While I'm not sure I totally buy her story, I think she is earnest in her intentions to secure the Team's pardons."

"She's hiding something," Amy said certainly.

"Amy, you don't have to come along, if you don't want to," Maggie said, "If you don't support Agent Clay, you could be more of a hindrance than a help."

Amy looked at Maggie obstinately, dropping into a seat just as the door separating the cabin and the cock pit opened.

"Hello, ladies," Jeff said, smiling solicitously, "We'll be taking off shortly. Can I get either of you a drink before we leave?"

"Scotch and soda," Maggie said.

"Vodka tonic," Amy said.

Jeff stepped behind a low bar, and began mixing the drinks expertly.

"So, are you an Abel agent as well, or just the pilot?" Maggie asked quietly.

Jaff smiled, "I wear a lot of hats. This trip I'm the co-pilot" he said good-naturedly, "And yes, I am an Abel agent – Abel 8 at your service."

"Are you _her_ partner?" Amy asked coolly.

"Nope," Jeff said, looking at Amy shrewdly, "Her partner just quit – havin' a baby, and the spy business isn't exactly conducive to family life."

"Oh," Amy said quietly, then sat up, saying accusingly, "So, Stockwell is sending his spare agents to negotiate the A-Team pardons. Nothing like sending in B players."

Jeff walked around the bar, carrying their drinks and handed Maggie's to her first, before stopping in front of Amy, and holding out her drink, "Nancy is far from being a B player, Ms. Allen. She's a trained profiler and better at reading people then anyone I've ever met. She'll be formidable at the negotiating table."

"So you say . . ."

Jeff stood up and crossed his arms, "You know, Ms. Allen, Nan went on mission with the Team, and when they got back she went to bat for them, against the General's wishes. She's risking quite a bit here, herself. The least you could do is cooperate with her."

"She went on mission with them?" Amy asked sullenly.

There was a click, and Nancy's voice floated out of the speaker, "Please prepare for takeoff."

Jeff turned back towards the cockpit, "If you have any further questions, I'm sure Nancy can answer them. Please strap in, and we'll be on our way."

Once they got to cruising altitude, Nancy sat back, "So, how were our guests?"

"A little cranky," Jeff said, "Ms. Allen has a definite chip, and I don't think it put her at ease to think you went on mission with the Team."

"That's probably because she figures I'm the Lieutenant's latest conquest," Nancy said with a chuckle, "If she only knew the truth."

"Are you going to tell them?" Jeff asked.

"No way," Nancy said, shaking her head, "I don't want to take any chance that the General will find out, and the fewer people that know the better."

"Probably a good way to play it, at this point," Jeff agreed.

"I'm glad you approve," Nancy said, then stood, "I'm going back to see if I can break the ice with the reporter. Any sage advice?"

"Try making nice and tell her the truth about you and Face," Jeff suggested, "At least then you won't be a rival."

"Make nice?" Nancy asked innocently, then smiling demurely she added, "I'm not sure I know how to do that."

Jeff shook his head in dismay as Nancy disappeared into the cabin.

Same Difference 

Face walked out on the back deck to find Murdock who had ostensibly left to get some fresh air about an hour earlier. After some searching, he found his friend sitting on the high platform, gazing out across the Compound grounds.

"You alright, HM?" Face asked, dropping down next to him.

Murdock nodded, "Sure, Facey, why wouldn't I be?"

Face shrugged, "I don't know, it came as quite a shock to me that you were dating the General's niece."

Murdock chuckled, "Yea, well, where Nan's concerned, I don't think I'm capable of being shocked anymore."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, then Face ventured another question, "So, are things going to be OK between you two?"

"I don't know," Murdock said, "I fell in love with _her_, not her uncle. But . . .," he paused thoughtfully.

Face nodded in understanding, as Murdock turned and looked at him directly, "How do you think she's gonna feel about having a relationship with a guy that her uncle hates?"

"Stockwell doesn't hate you . . .," Face started.

"Yea, he does, Face," Murdock said certainly, "He holds a grudge for a long time. I mean, I'm the first to admit that what I did was wrong, but it was 15 years ago . . ."

"You know, you've never really talked about how you and the General know each other . . .," Face said leadingly.

"The General helped me out of a bad situation . . . in another life," Murdock said vaguely, "And I deserted him . . . betrayed him," he shook his head in defeat, "He's never going to forgive me for that."

"But, like you said, Nan isn't her uncle," Face said, "Whatever's between you and the General shouldn't affect your relationship with her."

Murdock shrugged, "Except that I can't imagine she'd want to alienate half her family to be with me. Her Dad and her Uncle are all she's got."

"I don't know," Face said with a thoughtful frown, "If I had a choice between Stockwell and the orphanage, it would be a tough call," he turned and looked at Murdock with a grin.

"I'm trying to be serious, Face," Murdock said, but couldn't help grinning himself.

"OK, then, let's look at it this way," Face said, more seriously, "I don't think it's any secret that the General is less than friendly towards you, and that hasn't deterred Nan yet, so I really don't think there's gonna be an issue there."

Murdock nodded ruminatively, thinking back to when he had told Nancy that he and the General didn't have good history, "You're right, Face. I mean it's not like it's a secret that Stockwell and I aren't bosom buddies."

"Exactly," Face said, smiling triumphantly.

For the Team 

Nancy walked into the cabin and straight to the bar, pulling a beer out of the refrigerator, opening it, and taking a long pull before turning to face Amy and Maggie, "I trust Jeff made you comfortable."

Amy's expression was still cross, but Maggie smiled, "Yes, we're quite comfortable."

"You're welcome to get up and move around the cabin, now," Nancy said, "We'll be in the air about three hours, have a brief stop in Chicago, then head to DC. Our accommodations are ready, and you'll have the remainder of the day to recuperate from the travel."

"When will we get to see the Team?" Maggie asked.

"After the pardon negotiations," Nancy said, "At this point, they don't know that these negotiations are occurring, and I hate to get their hopes up, if things go south. Either way, you'll get to see the Team by the end of the week."

"Your associate said you went on a mission with the Team . . .," Amy started, pausing uncertainly.

Nancy looked at Amy discerningly, "Yes, I did," she said, "And it was a privilege. They're an incredible group of men."

Amy looked at Nancy, her gaze wary, "Yes, they are," she agreed, "I am surprised that Hannibal allowed you to come along . . ."

"Colonel Smith really had little choice in the matter," Nancy said, "But while I know he wasn't thrilled at first, we ended up working well together."

Maggie sat forward, "Did . . . another pilot go with you?"

"Captain Murdock did not accompany us to Columbia," Nancy said, "He and Mr. Santana went down separately. It was part of the plan."

Nancy moved on without a break, effectively cutting off any further questions about the mission, "Ladies, I know that this must seem rather unusual, having someone show up on your doorstep and whisk you across country on the spur of the moment. Please trust me that if there had been any other way, I would have tried to give you more warning," Nancy looked at them earnestly, "We just returned from Columbia, and because of the timing of the appropriations vote, our window to take advantage of the Army's vulnerability is very narrow. We don't have much time."

Maggie sat forward, "When do we meet with the politicians?"

"There will be several meetings, first with the individual Senators and Congressmen, then a full meeting of both groups, with the Army brass in attendance. The goal is to get the politicians on board with the pardons, so that when the full meeting comes, the Army brass don't have any wiggle room."

"Does the Army have any idea what the meeting is about?" Maggie asked.

"As far as I know, not now, but once we begin meeting with the committee members, I think it's inevitable that they'll find out," Nancy said, "They may try damage control, which is why the meetings are scheduled as they are. Those members most likely to be sympathetic are scheduled early. We'll take the hard cases last – so they have the freshest pitch. It's hard to say how this will work until I start to get a feel for the individual players, but I'm cautiously optimistic about the strategy."

Amy still looked distrustful, "Why are you doing all of this?"

"Don't worry, Ms. Allen, I'm not at all interested in the Lieutenant," Nancy said, a slight smile tugging at her lips, "I have several reasons for taking on this challenge, not the least of which is to try and show up my Uncle, General Stockwell. You're just going to have to trust that in the process I'm doing what's best for the Team."

"What do you mean you're not interested in the Lieutenant," Amy said indignantly.

Nancy looked directly at Amy, "I mean just what I said. Face is all yours – isn't that what you're worried about?"

Color had risen on Amy's cheeks, and Maggie was watching the two young women with an amused expression, "Appears Agent Clay has your number, Amy," she said directly, then turned her attention to Nancy, "You have to understand, we've heard promises of pardons before, and been disappointed. That tends to foster a healthy skepticism. And the fact that the General is your Uncle doesn't make me feel any better."

"Please, call me Nancy," Nancy said, adding ruefully, "I can certainly understand your doubts, and if I were in your position, I can't say I would feel any differently. My Uncle and I have had our disagreements, but the fact that he's willing to allow me to belly up to the negotiating table indicates that he feels as I do, that the Team has paid their dues, and deserve their freedom. For my part, I promise you that I will do _everything_ in my power to ensure that those pardons are secured."

Maggie looked at Nancy narrowly, "Just make sure you do," she said warningly, "John and his men deserve a break. I'm hoping beyond hope that you're it."

Nancy looked down from the direct gaze. She agreed whole-heartedly with Major Sullivan, and was feeling the weight of the burden heavily on her shoulders. Failure was not an option.

Their stop in Chicago was quick. Trixie had BA's mother at the airport and ready to go. It took only half an hour to get them boarded and turn the plane around, heading for DC. Maggie, Amy and Mrs. Baracus spent the flight catching up, and discussing the potential pardons with cautious optimism. Trixie had headed into the General's on-board office to check up on preparations for the coming meetings, while Nancy and Jeff stayed in the cock pit, keeping busy with the flight through the busy air space over Ohio and Pennsylvania.

Final Preparations 

When they landed at National, there was a limo waiting for them. Amy, Maggie and Mrs. Baracus were settled in the limo, and Nancy leaned down, "Ladies, I have a few things to wrap up before I join you for dinner. Please make yourselves comfortable in the suite until then." She closed the door before any of them could ask anything else.

As the limo pulled away from the curb, Nancy turned to Trixie, "So, what's the score?"

"We're faring pretty well, right now," Trixie said, "Bart's on board, said just to give him a call when we're ready to roll. The General made initial contact with each of the committee members, and they've all agreed to an initial meeting with you and your guests. There have been a few changes to the original sequence," she handed Nancy a piece of paper with the revised meeting schedule, "But nothing major. The final meeting is set for Wednesday at 10 am, and the General will be there to exert his influence. Everything is set."

Nancy took a deep breath, "What do you think?"

"I think it's gonna be a hell of a ride!" Trixie responded, smiling.

Nancy crossed her arms, looking at Trixie reproachfully, "I mean about our chances of success," she said crossly.

Trixie put a comforting arm around her friend, "C'mon, Nan, you really need to chill," she said calmly, "We've done all we can for now. The real show starts tomorrow – and you more than anyone, needs to be well-rested and relaxed."

"Well-rested, yes," Nancy agreed tightly, "But I'm not going to relax until this is all over."

Steering Nancy to a waiting sedan, Trixie sighed, "OK, fine, but if you don't lighten up at least a little bit, you are going to burn out before this is all over. And you're not going to do anybody any good, if that happens," Trixie gave her a gentle shove into the car, and glanced around, "Where's your guitar, anyway?"

"Probably with my duffel," Nancy said, settling in the seat and closing her door. Trixie opened the back door and got in.

Jeff glanced over from the driver's seat, "Your duffel, and your guitar are in the trunk," he supplied.

Nancy spun in her seat as Jeff pulled away from the curb, "Did the General forward the files for everyone on Appropriations?"

Trixie leaned forward and pulled a briefcase onto her lap, "Looks like it," she said, opening the case, "Oh, and as a bonus, he's included the files on the Army brass expected to attend the final meeting," she handed a couple of manila files up to Nancy.

"Good," Nancy said, as she took the files and turned to face forward, opening the top file.

"The Army is still blissfully ignorant of what's coming, but that's unlikely to last through tomorrow," Trixie said, shuffling briefly through the remainder of the files in the briefcase before snapping it shut, and placing it on the seat between Nancy and Jeff.

Without looking up, Nancy took the case and set it on her lap, using it as a makeshift desk to hold the file she had opened, "I'm afraid that is inevitable," she said, without raising her eyes from the file, "Are you ready for them?"

"All set," Trixie said, sitting back, "Jeff and I will be waiting outside the Pentagon. When they move, we'll work damage control. I have the office numbers for all the committee members on speed dial. We'll do our best to scramble their chances for audiences."

"I've enlisted a couple other teams to help with that," Jeff said, "We should be able to keep a step ahead of them."

"Let's hope so," Nancy said.

Brief Contact 

Nancy sat at the edge of the reflecting pool, gazing out at the reflection of the Washington Monument in the still water. Dinner and the remainder of the evening with Amy, Maggie and Mrs. B had gone well. Amy even seemed to be defrosting some, but when it had come time to go to sleep, it was hopeless. After tossing and turning for an hour, she had gotten up and re-read the files on all the committee members again. Now, at 2 am, she was wandering around the streets of DC, trying to wear herself out enough to go to sleep.

She stood, and began slowly walking back towards the hotel. About a block away, she passed a telephone booth, and her steps slowed. She knew Murdock was staying at the Compound, and she ached to talk to him, but it was a ridiculous time of night to be calling. However, she knew for a fact that the General wasn't there – he was upstairs in the suite, having joined them late in the evening.

She finally walked into the booth, and dropped in a quarter, dialing the Compound phone number quickly, before she could change her mind again. The phone rang once, and she almost hung up, when Murdock's voice came over the line, "Hello?"

Nancy closed her eyes, leaning her head against the side of the booth, and letting herself relax, "Hi, HM," she said quietly.

"Nan?" he asked in concern, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said hastily, imagining how it must seem with a call this late at night, "I just can't sleep."

Murdock relaxed back into the couch, "Me, too," he said ruefully, adding with a chuckle, "Does seem a shame to waste a sleepless night apart, though."

Nancy smiled, letting his voice wash over her, and feeling some of the tension fade, "I just wanted to hear your voice," she admitted candidly, "I'm sorry I called so late."

Murdock smiled, cradling the phone against his shoulder, "I'm glad you called," he said, "I've been worried sick ever since I saw the FBI putting you in handcuffs."

"I told you that was just temporary . . ."

"Yea, and the General told us you'd been released, but I still feel better hearing your voice," Murdock said, "Where are you?"

Nancy plucked at her sleeve, "I'm still out of town," she said.

"Guess that means I can't sneak out and see you, then," he said in disappointment, "When will you be back?"

"Friday," Nancy said, "Probably late in the afternoon, Friday."

They both sat quietly, neither willing to break the contact, until the operator interrupted the silence, "Please insert another quarter."

Nancy straightened, and dug in her pocket, coming up empty, "HM, I don't have another quarter . . ."

"Reverse charges," Murdock said.

"You wish this long distance call to be charged to your line, sir?" the operator asked in confirmation.

"Yes," Murdock said.

"Very well, the charges will be reversed," the operator said, "Have a nice evening."

After the tell-tale click of the operator breaking the connection, Nancy spoke, "Well, nothing like accepting charges _you_ aren't going to pay," she said teasingly.

"There's something fitting about your uncle footing the bill for us to talk in the middle of the night in order to avoid him finding out about us," Murdock said.

Nancy's head cocked off to one side, as she recognized Murdock's reference to the General, "When did you find out . . .," she started haltingly.

"The General let it slip this afternoon when he came to debrief us," Murdock said, "I can't say I was overly shocked, really."

Nancy shook her head, of all the reactions she had envisioned him having regarding the revelation, this was not even close. She sighed, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she said sincerely.

"It's alright, Short Cake," Murdock said, "If I were you, I wouldn't have told me either. However, it does kinda throw another monkey wrench into our relationship."

"In what way?" Nancy asked curiously.

"You remember me saying that the General and I had a lot of bad history, right?" he asked rhetorically, "Well, I don't know how close you two are, but he really isn't wild about me, and I hate to come between you."

"The only thing that comes between us, is us, HM," Nancy said ruefully, "Uncle and I have always had a kinda love/hate relationship. It works for us, and you should fit into it quite nicely."

Nancy yawned widely, and Murdock chuckled, "You should head to bed Short Cake. You sound whooped."

Nancy had to admit, she was finally feeling as if she might be able to drop off to sleep, "I suppose I should go," she said reluctantly, "I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow, and I really need to get some rest."

"Sleep tight, Short Cake, and sweet dreams," Murdock said quietly, "I love you."

"I love you, too, HM," Nancy said, yawning again, "I'll see you Friday. 'Bye."

Murdock held onto the phone until he heard the click on the other end, then slowly replaced it on its cradle. Then he sat forward and looked at the display on the digital phone with interest. After pushing a few buttons, he managed to find the caller identification list, and noted with interest that Nancy had been calling from a DC number. He found that very interesting, and wrote the number down. Maybe Face could find out exactly where she was calling from.

Shoving the paper into his pocket, he headed back to Face's room and dropped onto the spare bed, fully clothed. He smiled, thinking about what that phone call meant. He felt pretty confident about their relationship, now. She was definitely as hooked as he was. His eyes closed sleepily, as he drifted off to a sleep uncharacteristically graced with sweet dreams.

Negotiations 

Nancy awoke to a pounding on her door, in the hotel suite. Her alarm was already going off, but she had slept through it. It wasn't until the insistent pounding that she had finally roused out of a fitful sleep.

"Nancy," her Uncle's muffled voice called, "Nancy, breakfast is here, and your first meeting is in less than two hours."

Nancy glanced at the clock, and threw the covers off hastily, "I'll be right out, General," she called, as she switched off the alarm. She didn't waste any time, taking a quick shower and dressing in a conservative burgundy pant suit.

Joining the others in the common area of the suite, they ate breakfast while discussing their schedule for the morning.

Stockwell stood about an hour later, looking at Nancy sternly, "Do not be late to the meetings. I will join you this evening for dinner, to find out how everything went today," he turned to the other ladies and smiled charmingly, "Good luck, and good day, ladies."

Nancy looked after him sullenly, silently wishing he didn't make her feel like such an errant child. Draining the remainder of her juice, she stood as well, "We'll be leaving in 10 minutes. The first meeting is at the Capitol, with Senator Lowell."

Murdock laid the platter of bacon and eggs on the table out on the deck. Hannibal, Frankie and BA were all sitting there reading sections of the newspaper and drinking coffee or milk.

Murdock dropped into one of two empty seats, "Dig in, guys!" he said cheerfully.

Hannibal grunted, setting the paper aside and beginning to fill his plate, "You're in a good mood this morning."

"Nan called last night," Murdock said in explanation.

"And what did our little spook have to say?" Hannibal asked, his interest sparked.

"Well, it's not so much what she said, as where she said it from . . ." Murdock said cryptically.

Face came through the sliding doors onto the deck about then, a big smile on his face, "This call was made from a pay phone right around the corner from the Capitol."

Frankie sat up straighter, "You don't think . . ."

"She goin' for our pardons," BA said with certainty, before digging into a plateful of bacon and eggs.

It had been a whirlwind tour of the Capitol and offices of the committee members. The early meetings, as anticipated, went very well, with little argument. The afternoon meetings were much more contentious, and by the time they had bid farewell to the last committee member, Nancy was spent. Looking at Amy, Maggie and Mrs. B, she knew she wasn't alone.

Nancy walked behind Mrs. B, pushing her in a wheel chair that she had acquired earlier in the day, when the elderly woman had begun showing signs of fatigue with all of the walking, "Ladies, I don't know about you, but I could use a good, stiff drink – without the General," she said flatly.

"Amen," Maggie said wearily, "There's a bar, right over there. Let's go in and have some cocktails before we head back to the suite."

As they took seats at a table in the bar and placed their orders, and familiar man stopped by Nancy's elbow, "What are you doing here?" he asked flatly.

Nancy glanced up, barely concealing her distaste, "Hello, Lance. How are you?"

"You're supposed to be in Stockwell's custody, not out gallivanting around DC," Agent Tackett said scathingly.

"I would hardly call this gallivanting," Nancy countered coolly, "And how General Stockwell chooses to enforce his custody is hardly your concern."

"You better keep your nose clean," Tackett said ominously, "I've got an eye on you."

Nancy waved him away, and Maggie looked at her curiously, "What was he talking about?"

"Tackett just likes to throw his weight around," Nancy said, shrugging nonchalantly, "He's a marginal FBI agent who's stinging over my recent release. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Maggie glanced over towards the bar, noting that Tackett still watched their group with overt interest, and wondering at Nancy's apparent indifference.

But, before she could ask anything further along that line, Nancy's phone rang. She checked the caller ID before picking it up, "Hey, Trix, how's it going?"

"Well, the bad news is they've managed to get in to see two of the fence sitters. The good news is that they've been refused individual meetings with all of the committee members that are firmly on our side," Trixie took a deep breath," They are still in contact with their offices, and continue to try members they haven't yet contacted, so I'm guessing we'll be at this for the rest of the evening. How about on your end?"

"Pretty much like we expected," Nancy said, "Though I was pleasantly surprised at a couple of the later meetings, and I'm hopeful that we have enough support to make tomorrow go fairly smoothly. Listen, if you need a distraction, why don't you give a few of our firmer supporters a call and ask them to help out. They could occupy some of the Army's time."

"Good idea," Trixie said thoughtfully.

"Lowell and Morris would be good choices," Nance added, "Keplington would probably be more than willing, and that guy could talk the ear off a rabbit."

"Got it, we'll see what we can do," Trixie responded quickly.

"Good. Keep me updated on any developments on your end," Nancy said, "We'll be heading back to the hotel for dinner with the General shortly."

"Will do," Trixie said, before ringing off.

Nancy put her phone away, and picked up her drink, draining it quickly, and motioning to the waitress for another. She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to rub away the fatigue she felt.

She looked at the ladies sitting around her, "Well, how do you think it went today?" she asked bluntly.

Maggie was the first to speak up, "I think it went well," she said, "I just hope we were able to convince enough of them that pardoning the A-Team is the right thing to do."

"Well, tomorrow, you'll be reminding them of that very fact," Nancy said, smiling, "While the General and I remind them that not pardoning the A-Team could lead to some very detrimental publicity."

"You were pertty clear wi' that message today," Mrs. B said, chuckling, but her look sobered, "Jus' seems wrong that it'd be this hard to convince our leaders to do what's right."

"Yes, it does," Nancy agreed, taking a sip of her second drink, "How about you, Ms. Allen?"

"I think our chances are good tomorrow," Amy said confidently, adding diffidently, "And I'd just like to say, for the record, that I miscalculated you, Agent Clay. I have no doubt that you will be able to pull this off."

"You have no idea how much that means," Nancy said gratefully, as she drained her second drink and motioned for another.

Dinner that evening ended up being a somber affair. The General was in a foul mood, and tended to take his irritation out on Nancy. Nancy, not being one to just sit and take it, lashed back. Their exchanges had the effect of dampening everyone's spirits by the end of dinner. When they arrived back at the suite, the General went immediately to his room, leaving the women alone out in the common area.

Nancy dropped disconsolately onto the couch, "Sorry about that, Ladies," she said quietly, "I'm afraid I am just not making the General at all happy today."

Maggie put a comforting hand on Nancy's shoulder as she passed behind the couch, "I don't think anything would have made him happy," she said consolingly, "Something definitely didn't go his way today, and you were just an easy, and readily available target."

Nancy nodded, wondering just what had transpired to put her Uncle in such a foul mood. She sighed, she wasn't sure she really cared, she just wished she didn't have a bull's eye in the middle of her forehead.

Maggie chuckled, handing Nancy a Killian's on her way back to sit down, "Just sit back and forget it. It's over now. Tomorrow, you need to be at the top of your game, and that's going to require some rest and relaxation. Right ladies?"

"Right," Mrs. B was positively, "Let the General stew – you done good today sweetie. But tomorrow . . . tomorrow's when the rubber hits the road."

Nancy nodded mutely, her thoughts immediately turning to the next day's meeting. She put down her untouched beer, and grabbed a notepad and a pen, and began jotting some notes.

"So much for R&R," Maggie said, considering the earnest young woman with a smile, "Nan, is there anything I can get you?"

"I need my briefcase," Nancy said without looking up, curling her feet under her and getting comfortable.

Nancy continued to work, talking intermittently to the three women, asking questions, and bending back to her notepad. Maggie, Amy and Mrs. B all drifted off to bed, but Nancy continued to sift through the committee personnel files again, and lay out a strategy for the next day. The only two people who would be attending the meeting that she hadn't met were the Army brass – they would be the wild cards

Sometime after midnight, she laid her notes aside and stretched. She really needed to get to bed, but she still felt wired. Smiling, she stood, stowed everything into her brief case, and shoved her feet into her shoes – maybe Murdock would be waiting by the phone again tonight.

And he was. Murdock picked up on the first ring again, "Hey, Short Cake," he said cheerfully, before Nancy could say a word.

"Hi, HM," she said, feeling herself relax almost immediately upon hearing his voice.

"How was your day?"

"Not bad," Nancy said noncommittally, "Went about as expected."

Murdock pursed his lips, hopefully that meant the pardon negotiating was going OK, "I'm glad to hear that," he said, "What's goin' on tomorrow?"

"Another meeting," Nancy said vaguely.

"In DC?"

Nancy straightened, "How did you . . ."

"This caller ID thingy on the General's fancy phone is pretty cool," Murdock said, smiling, "And I think I have a pretty good idea what you're up to, Short Cake. I can't tell you how much it means to me."

"Does the rest of the Team know?" she asked guardedly.

"Well, yea . . ."

"HM," Nancy said tiredly, "I didn't really want you to know until things were tied up. There's still a lot of things that could throw a monkey wrench into this project."

"I have faith in you, Short Cake," Murdock said confidently, "If anybody can get those pardons, you can."

"I just hope that faith isn't misplaced," Nancy said quietly.

"Sweetheart, you worry too much."

Nancy rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling incredibly tired but not the least bit sleepy, "Maybe you just don't worry enough."

"See," Murdock said matter-of-factly, "That's what makes us such a good pair. We even each other out. You gotta have confidence, Nan. I do."

Nancy smiled thoughtfully, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, it's time for you to hit the sack," Murdock said authoritatively, "You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow. Sleep tight, Short Cake. Give yourself a big hug for me."

"Good night, HM."

The Meeting 

They all awoke early the next morning in anticipation of the meeting. They ate quietly, each preparing in their own way for the comprehensive meeting later that morning. Nancy was reviewing the files, yet again, and going over her own notes. The General was on the phone, talking with various people who would be participating in the meeting, encouraging involvement and lobbying admirably for the pardons. Maggie had taken up Nancy's notes, adding a few of her own, and reviewing with interest what Nancy had written.

Amy was on another line, with her editor, pitching the possible story, and pushing for front page coverage. Mrs. B was reading the newspaper, and trying to rest, knowing that once the meeting started, the day would fly by.

When it was time to leave, they walked to one of the conference rooms in the hotel, which had been set as the meeting place. They were half an hour early, and spent the time, quickly arranging the room to their benefit, and making sure that there were plenty of coffee and donuts. As the committee members started arriving, Nancy and the General both engaged them, quickly setting them at ease, and encouraging Amy, Maggie and Mrs. B to circulate and make pointed small talk with them.

Senator Butcher was the last to arrive, and arrived in the company of the two Army representatives that Trixie had been shadowing, General Jerome, and Major Caswell. Butcher was a hard case, far-right career politician, and had made his feelings on the pardon issue all too clear. Fortunately, he wasn't a senior member of the appropriations committee, and did not carry much influence. He was, however, very vocal.

The General opened the meeting, thanking everyone for attending, and briefly reiterating the reason for the gathering. He introduced Amy, Maggie, Mrs. Baracus, and Nancy. He then presented a slide show, detailing the missions that the A-Team had worked over the last year, in their tenure with Stockwell Enterprises, and then going over some of the more well-known cases they had worked as 'free-lancers'. To Nancy's surprise, the General had managed to get several of the people involved in the earlier cases to come, and he invited them in, one at a time, as he went through the presentation, so that by the end, there was quite a gathering of people around the perimeter of the room. The General reiterated that the A-Team had helped so many over the years, and this was just a sampling.

"In closing, gentlemen, I again encourage you to support my bid for pardons for the A-Team. These men faithfully served their country during the Vietnam War, and have continued to help less fortunate citizens, even while evading capture by the Army. Their loyalty to their country is exemplary, even when their own country has seemingly deserted them. It's time to restore their faith, and grant them the pardons that they so richly deserve. Thank you."

Butcher raised a hand, and the General nodded, "Yes, Senator?"

"These 'exemplary US citizens' you've been extolling for the last 20 minutes were convicted of murder, isn't that right, General Stockwell?" Butcher said scathingly.

Nancy stood up and answered the question, "You are absolutely right, Senator, they were. However, all evidence in that trial was circumstantial, and on review I am certain that I could easily get that decision overturned. At this point, I don't think that this administration can afford another black eye that would go with prosecuting the A-Team again. The political toll would be far too heavy this close to an election."

"So, Agent Clay," Butcher said, "You are suggesting that we buck our judicial system and provide a summary judgment in favor of the A-Team?"

"I am not suggesting bucking anything. The United States is headed by a three-tiered government, with checks and balances designed to minimize the chance that one branch can make a mistake. Unfortunately, where the A-Team is concerned, this system of checks and balances was not present, with the Army acting as sole judge and executioner, literally, with it's own agenda, and biases," Nancy's gaze was level and adamant, as she launched into a description of the case against the Team, presenting and refuting each piece of evidence used to convict them in the murder of Morrison.

Nancy finally concluded, "In short, I am not suggesting that this body overturn the Army's decision without thoughtful consideration. I am _suggesting_ that you take an unbiased look at the evidence, recognize that the death penalty went far beyond what was warranted, and make a recommendation that pardons be issued by the President. While I know that there is no precedence for such an action, I think it is warranted given the extenuating circumstances in this case."

Talking broke out across the room, and soon the questions were coming fast and furious, with both the General and Nancy, and at times, Maggie, Amy, and Mrs. Baracus, fielding various questions, on wide-ranging topics related to the Team's activities over the years, as well as the murder case. The Army representatives remained stoically silent during the entire time, until things quieted down.

Then Major Caswell stood, and asked for the chance to address the gathering, "Distinguished gentlemen," he started, "I have listened carefully to everything that has been said today, and I must say that I agree with Agent Clay and General Stockwell regarding the issuance of pardons for the A-Team."

Nancy managed to hide her shock at this statement, waiting nervously for the other shoe to drop, as Murdock had put it. She didn't have long to wait, as Caswell continued, "However, I ask you to keep in mind that these men are trained special forces, and as such are a killing machine. Without guidance, and without the appropriate control, they could easily become a threat. In fact, I would argue that the only thing that has kept them in line, for the last ten years, is the fact that the military was always on the watch for them, forcing them into the underground. While I extol their good work over the years, I also caution against being too trusting. These men must be controlled, or the consequences could be disastrous."

Again, a flurry of murmurs, and questions began flying regarding the Team's training. In the end, the committee members all seemed to be in agreement, that the Team should receive their pardons, but had to be under contract to some government agency, to ensure that their energies were spent doing work beneficial to the US. Nancy argued until she was blue in the face against this type of condition, but to no avail. In the end, a small commission was organized to bring the proposal to the President. Meanwhile, the Army was lobbying for the A-Team to be re-enlisted. The General requested a short recess from the meeting, in order to regroup.

Strings 

As they entered the private meeting room, Nancy looked at the General accusingly, "We cannot accept this kind of condition,' she said angrily, "They deserve their pardons, free and clear."

"I don't disagree with you. All I am saying is that this is the best we are going to be able to leverage," Stockwell said matter-of-factly, "They are not budging on this condition, and by my estimations, they will not."

"I won't accept it," Nancy said stubbornly.

Stockwell put his hands on Nancy's shoulders in an uncharacteristic show of warmth and support, "Nancy, you've done an exemplary job of negotiating these pardons, but you have to recognize a losing proposition," he said quietly, "The requested condition still allows the Team some discretion, and if we don't agree to it, then I'm afraid that they'll move forward with the pardons offering their own, narrower options to the Team. I will do my best to get them as much choice as possible, but I don't think that avoiding the condition altogether is realistic."

"What we need to do now, is leverage as many options for the Team as humanly possible – and I mean _right now_. That means contacting the FBI, CIA, Secret Service, and any other agency we can think of, to see if they would be interested in hosting the A-Team in the long term. We also need to get Stockwell Enterprises in the ring. That way, the Team at least has some choice in the matter."

Contracts and Closing 

The General walked into the suite later that evening, dropping a stack of papers on Nancy's lap, "These are the draft offers, and I want you to review them and comment. If there are any terms that need revised, mark them and I will finalize everything in the morning. Then we can head back to Langley."

Nancy looked at the stack of papers resignedly, feeling defeated, "I'll have them for you in the morning," she said, "We can go over it at breakfast."

Stockwell considered his niece with a knowing look, "Nancy you can't beat yourself up over this. You did a good job. The Team is lucky to have you in their corner."

"Thank you," Nancy murmured, then looked up at the General, "I just hope this isn't going to take months to wrap up."

"My thoughts exactly," Stockwell said resolutely, "I'm headed to a late meeting now, to urge the commission along their path. I want those pardons in hand by tomorrow afternoon, and I am not convinced that they feel the same urgency. I won't be back until late this evening, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Good bye, Uncle," Nancy said, to his already retreating back. She looked at the clock, it was 8:30 already, so she decided to call room service and ordered a pot of coffee. Then she went to work, poring over every detail in the contracts for the next four hours before taking a break, other than to get another cup of coffee. By the time she was done, it was after 1am and she stood, stretching. She needed some fresh air, and it was about time for her nightly call to HM.

At the phone booth, she dialed the Compound phone number, and before it had even rung audibly over the line, Murdock was on the phone, "Hey, Short Cake," he said cheerfully.

Nancy couldn't help but smile, just hearing his voice was soothing, though at this point, she would have preferred to have his arms around her. In some ways, it was frightening how overwhelming the desire to have him near was at times.

"Hi, HM," she said, trying to make the smile come through in her voice, and hearing herself just how badly she was failing, "You sound chipper tonight.'

"You sure don't," he said bluntly, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Let's just say that the day didn't go the way I wanted it to, and leave it at that," Nancy said quietly.

"No pardons, huh?" Murdock asked dejectedly.

"There will be pardons . . .," Nancy said quietly, "But there are also conditions . . ."

Murdock sighed in relief, "As long as there are pardons," he said, "That's all I care about. And," he added happily, "Tomorrow is Friday, which means I'll get to see you."

Nancy closed her eyes, "I wish I could see you now."

"Give me an address and I'll be there in a flash," Murdock said.

"While that sounds appealing, it's not a good idea," Nancy said, smiling, "The General is hanging around."

"Well, you should get to bed anyway," Murdock said solicitously, "You sound dead on your feet."

"Yea, I kinda am. Good night, HM," Nancy said, "I love you."

"Love you, too, Short Cake!"

Back in the suite, Nancy found the General sitting up and going over the contracts she had left sitting in her room.

He looked up as she entered and nodded approval, indicating the contracts, "Very good suggestions. I will let you take these to the respective groups and have them modified. I will be accompanying the commission to see the President tomorrow, and will likely be tied up in meetings all day."

"Just give me the contact info, and I'll take care of it," Nancy agreed readily.

"We can discuss that further in the morning," Stockwell said, adding curiously, "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

"Dad," Nancy lied readily.

"Why didn't you just call him from up here?"

"Because the spirit didn't move me until I was walking around down there," she responded flippantly.

He looked at her searchingly, but in the end decided there was no point in pushing the issue. He could see that it would just force her to shut down, and would do nothing but frustrate him. He took a deep breath, "Go to bed and get some sleep, Abel 5."

Nancy was grateful for the direct order in lieu of more questions, "I was just headed there," she agreed, "Good night, Uncle."

Hannibal walked out of his bedroom, finding Murdock still sitting on the end of the couch, the telephone in his lap, "Just get off the phone with Nancy, Murdock?"

"Yea," Murdock said, looking up, "She's got the pardons, but she said there are conditions. She sounded so defeated tonight. Kinda has me worried about what kind of conditions she means."

"Conditions, huh," Hannibal said, shrugging, "Can't say I'm surprised. It'll be interesting to find out what the Army wants."

'You mean besides our heads on a platter?" Murdock asked.

"Well, now, they've never been able to manage that, now have they?" Hannibal asked grinning.

Done Deal 

The next day passed in a blur of meetings, as Nancy finalized the contracts, wishing all the while that she could just pitch them in the trash. By late afternoon she was done, and back at the suite. Maggie, Amy and Mrs. B had spent the day taking in the DC sights and relaxing, and were now lounging around the suite common room, eating room service appetizers and drinking cocktails.

Amy glanced up as an obviously tired Nancy came walking into the suite, "Nan, how was your day?" she asked worriedly.

"I guess it was OK," Nancy said, dropping into a chair and sitting her briefcase down beside it.

Maggie walked over, handing Nancy a Killian's, "You look like you could use a drink," she said, "And there are plenty of snacks, so dig in – we're having a little pre-celebration."

"Thanks," Nancy said gratefully, taking the beer.

"When will we go to see the Team?" Mrs. B asked, "I'm anxious to see Scooter."

"As soon as the General gets back, we should be set," Nancy said, "Hopefully."

Nancy looked at Amy, who looked more apprehensive than excited about seeing the Team, "You don't seem overly excited to be seeing them," she said probingly.

"When I left for Jakarta, there were some hard feelings," Amy said, "Since I got back the only one I've talked to is HM . . ."

Nancy glanced down to hide her involuntary reaction to hearing Murdock's name. When she looked back up, Amy was staring out the window thoughtfully, and Nancy prompted her, "So, you've talked to Murdock. What has he had to say?"

"He says that I'm being stupid and stubborn," Amy said, smiling, "He never pulls any punches."

"No, he doesn't," Nancy agreed, her own expression softening noticeably as she considered the pilot's forthright manner. It was one of the things that had attracted her initially.

"Sounds like you spent some time with Murdock . . ." Maggie said suggestively, and Amy nodded agreement, both considering Nancy with expectant curiosity.

Nancy quickly schooled her features, responding nonchalantly, "I don't have a lot of air time in helicopters, which were going to be our primary mode of transport in Columbia, so Hannibal had him running me through my paces in a chopper before we left," she supplied as explanation.

"So, being a pilot, what's it like to fly with Howlin' Mad?" Amy asked with an amused smile.

"Ya know," Nancy said thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever met anyone who seemed more at home in the air then they did on the ground. It's a bit intimidating, as a fellow pilot."

"And was he a good instructor?" Amy asked.

"Yea, he was," Nancy said, then chuckled "Though I was a bit concerned we weren't going to make it back to the airfield. He ran us low on fuel running me through landing exercises in the foothills, and the chopper died just as we were landing."

"Now that's HM all over," Amy said, laughing, "He loves to cut it close."

Maggie and Mrs. B also joined in, but as the laughter died down, Amy sighed, "I don't know why I've been so nervous," she said quietly, "It was the best time of my life, when I was running with the Team. I really miss 'em."

"We be seein' them soon, sweetie," Mrs. B said, patting Amy's hand, "And when we do, they'll be free men. Praise heaven, they finally be free men!"

Amy and Maggie both smiled in agreement. Nancy's look, however, soured and she reached down and picked up the brief case, in which the strings on that freedom rested. She was still disturbed by the condition imposed on the pardons.

Maggie looked at her knowingly, "I understand you aren't happy about the contract requirement, Nancy," she said, "But I'm not sure John and the others would have been able to walk away from this life anyway. So in the end, I just don't think it really matters."

Nancy stood up and took the case over to the desk, setting it on top, and turning back to Maggie, "It just seems that after all this time, they could at least have the option of walking away, free and clear, and starting their lives fresh."

Maggie stood and walked over, stopping in front of Nancy, considering her kindly, "You've taken this pardon negotiation to heart, Nancy, and I admire your commitment to the Team," she said quietly, "But you're going to have to let this one go, because there's no way around it. I would bet that John never expected to get pardons free and clear – not after 15 years of making a fool of the Army every chance he got. Hell, even when he was still an officer in 'good standing' he was hardly respectful. Face, BA, Murdock - they all fit into that mold. In all honesty, I think they've found their calling. Now the pardons will allow them to continue to do what they're good at, and receive the credit and recognition they deserve without having to continually look over their shoulders. That's all they really want."

Nancy glanced down from the direct gaze, staring at the floor and considering Maggie's statement seriously. She finally looked up and nodded, "Thanks, Mags," she said sincerely, "I guess in the end I was looking at this from my own perspective, and not theirs."

"It's easy to do," Maggie said, patting her arm, then turning to take a seat, "The Team's perspective is very unique . . . and sometimes very difficult to fathom."

Amy snorted, "Much like the men themselves!"

Contracts, Contracts, Everywhere 

The General didn't arrive back at the hotel suite until 5:30, but he did have a commitment for the final pardons, pending signed contracts. They left DC immediately, arriving at the Compound about an hour later. Maggie led the way into the house, with Amy and Mrs. B following close behind.

Nancy hung back with the General, walking into the house a few minutes behind the ladies. Nancy smiled, watching as Hannibal, BA, Face and Murdock greeted Maggie, Amy, and Mrs. B enthusiastically. Frankie stood aside, and was quickly introduced to the ladies. As the reunion wound down, Hannibal turned, a possessive arm about Maggie's shoulders, and looked towards where the General and Nancy stood.

"This is a very nice surprise, General," Hannibal said, smiling gratefully.

"You can thank Abel 5," Stockwell said impassively. He walked to the dining room table, opening his briefcase, removing four file folders, and laying them out on the table. Next he pulled out an official-looking document, then snapped his brief case shut and set it on the floor. The group had moved so that they were ranged loosely around the table, watching with keen interest.

"First, Mr. Santana," Stockwell said.

Frankie stepped forward nervously, as Stockwell held out the last document he'd pulled from his brief case.

Stockwell shoved it at him impatiently, "It doesn't bite, Mr. Santana," he said irritably, "It is a full pardon for your involvement in the escape of the A-Team."

Meanwhile, Nancy had bent down and pulled something else out of the brief case, and now handed it to the General, "Oh yes, and an airplane ticket to LA. For whenever you're ready to head home."

Frankie looked at the pardon disbelievingly, and took the offered ticket numbly, "This is for real?"

"Yes, Mr. Santana, it is 'for real'," Stockwell said sardonically.

Hannibal clapped Frankie on the back, "Congrats, Frank. It's been a long time coming."

Hannibal turned to the General expectantly, and Stockwell didn't hesitate.

"For the rest of you, I'm afraid the situation is not nearly that straightforward," he said, indicating the four folders, "In these four folders are offers from four different agencies. You will have the opportunity to review the contracts and make your selection."

He turned and looked directly at Murdock, "Captain, you are included in this deal. All of you must sign one of the contracts to enable me to secure your pardons."

Hannibal picked up the folder nearest him, flipping it open, "The CIA?"

"The CIA, DEA, and Military are the three government offers on the table," Stockwell supplied, as BA, Face, and Murdock each picked up one of the folders curiously, "The fourth offer is from Stockwell Enterprises. You can take your time, and peruse the offers thoroughly before making your decision. Abel 5 was involved in the drafting of each contract, and can provide you with legal guidance if your require it. I will await your decision, call me when you're ready."

The General retreated down the hall to his office. Hannibal dropped the folder he was holding, opened, onto the dining room table, "Whatdaya know, CIA, DEA, and the Military all willing to take us on, huh?" he said in amusement.

Face sat down, laying his folder out, and pointing to a spot on the front page, "Colonel, look at this – guaranteed $100 grand annual retainer with hazard pay on top of that."

Hannibal leaned forward, "Stockwell, should have known."

"None of the other contracts are as lucrative as the Stockwell Enterprises contract," Nancy supplied, "But you know that the General will make you work for it."

Hannibal turned and looked at her, "Why don't you walk us through the contracts, and give us your recommendation."

Nancy locked eyes with him, "Are you sure you trust Stockwell's niece to provide you with an unbiased opinion?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hannibal grinned at her around his cigar, "Not another lawyer I can think of that I'd trust more."

Nancy grimaced, "Thanks for the resounding vote of confidence, Colonel."

Hannibal put a fatherly arm around her shoulders, "You know how I feel about ya, kid. Now let us have it."

Nancy spent the next hour, going over each contract with them in detail. She studiously avoided looking at Murdock the entire time, though she was uncomfortably aware of his presence. Until the signed pardons were in hand, she didn't want to take a chance that the General would find out about their relationship.

She sat back, flipping the last file folder shut. Face was poring through the Stockwell Enterprises offer yet again. The others were sitting there looking thoroughly overwhelmed.

"Alright, kid, you've given us the facts," Hannibal said, "Now, which one do you think we should take?"

Nancy played idly with the pen in her hand, flipping it over and over contemplatively, "Honestly, Colonel, this is going to sound less than altruistic, but you aren't going to do any better than the Stockwell Enterprises offer . . ."

"That's sure how it looks to me," Hannibal said in ready agreement, "Besides, Face isn't willing to sign back on with the military, Murdock says the CIA is out, and I don't think any of us want anything to do with the DEA after the last week . . ."

BA grunted in agreement, and Hannibal chuckled, "I guess in the end, it's kinda a no brainer, huh?"

Hannibal was sitting next to Nancy, and took the pen out of her hand, pulled the Stockwell Enterprises contract forward, and signed his name with a flourish, "Who's next?" he asked holding the pen up.

Face took the pen and signed, then BA, and finally, Murdock, who turned and handed the pen back to Nancy, his hand lingering on hers for a second, before he turned resolutely away. Nancy sighed, and leaned forward, signing on the Stockwell Enterprises partner signature line.

Hannibal looked at her signature, and the title beneath it, and shook his head, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Nancy ignored the jab, and looked across at Maggie, "Would you mind signing as the witness?" she asked, holding out the pen, which Maggie did without hesitation.

Nancy stood, "That should do it," she said, flipping the folder shut and picking it up, "I'll take this back to the General and get your pardons in process. They should be here by tomorrow morning. Until then, you are free to go and celebrate. Frank is waiting outside with the limo," she smiled at them, her gaze lingering a few moments on Murdock, "Please, get some dinner, celebrate and enjoy your evening, on Stockwell Enterprises."

She turned and disappeared down the hall, and Murdock stood watching after her disbelievingly. Hannibal clapped him on the shoulder, "Ready to go celebrate, Captain?"

"But . . .," Murdock started disconsolately, glancing at Hannibal questioningly.

"Have faith, Captain," Hannibal said, then turning to the rest of the group, he clapped his hands together, "Let's go celebrate!"

Nancy walked into the General's office without knocking, slapping the folder down in front of him, "And . . ." Stockwell said leadingly.

"They signed on with Stockwell Enterprises," Nancy said, "I told them the pardons would be here in the morning . . ."

The General pulled out the signature page, turning and feeding it into the fax machine. As the number dialed, he turned back to her, "I will make sure they are here, as you promised."

Nancy nodded, "I think, all in all, that that went well," she said diffidently, "I do hope you won't take advantage of them, now that they officially work for you?"

"I will treat them just as I treat my other employees," Stockwell said positively.

Nancy pursed her lips, "Perhaps that's what really bothers me," she said ruefully.

After piling into the limo, Face knocked on the privacy window which rolled down immediately, "Yes, sir?"

Face smiled, feeling very in his element, "How about dinner at Sofitel Lafayette Square? I've heard that the dining is excellent."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have strict instructions on your destination," Frank responded.

"But Nan said . . .," Face began.

"That you are to enjoy the evening," Frank interrupted, "I believe there is a fine bottle of Dom Perignon in the bar for your enjoyment. We should arrive at our destination shortly, please sit back and relax," the window rolled up abruptly.

Face leaned over and found the Dom Perignon," Mmmm, a very good year," he said happily.

"Looks like our little spook has plans for us for the evening" Hannibal said with a smile.

"I just hope her plans include showing up at some point in time," Murdock said sullenly.

Maggie turned to Amy and Mrs. B, "Well, I guess that answers that question," she said, turning to Murdock she asked, "How long have you two been together?"

"Together?" Murdock repeated uncertainly, "Technically speaking I guess it's been . . . well, not counting that week in Columbia, I suppose . . .," he finally threw his hands up in frustration, "I don't know, with Nan it's kinda hard to tell."

Face laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "I thought that was part of the attraction, Murdock," he said teasingly.

Amy shook her head, "Honestly, Murdock, the General's niece? That seems a little reckless."

"In his defense," Hannibal said, "He didn't know who she was when they first started seeing each other."

"And she didn't know who he was," Face said, "The truth came as a bit of a shock to both of them."

"I can't wait to see Stockwell's face when he finds out," Hannibal said, grinning.

"The eye of the storm," Murdock muttered resignedly.

Let the Celebration Begin 

They pulled up outside of Charlie's and Frank opened the door, standing back, "There's a table waiting for your inside."

Murdock smiled impulsively as he stood waiting for the others to pile out. He glanced at Face, "This is where Nan and I came on our first . . .," he hesitated, continuing matter-of-factly, "Make that our only date."

Charlie met them at the door, and showed them to a table in the bar area.

"Luanne will be you server tonight," Charlie said graciously, as they all took seats, "Your tab is covered, so feel free to order whatever you like."

Leaning down by Murdock, Charlie asked, "Where's Nancy?"

Murdock shrugged, "She was still working when I saw her."

"Terrific," Charlie said morosely, "She better show up soon, or I'm gonna be tarred and feathered."

Murdock watched Charlie disappear through the crowd thronging the bar, wondering what the restaurateur was talking about.

Luanne came and took their orders, and they began celebrating in earnest. Someone had turned on the juke box, and Face grabbed Amy's hand, pulling her protesting onto a small wood dance floor, twirling her around playfully. At one point, Face spun her out, then pulled her back in, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and looking into her eyes. Amy caught her breath, and Face took advantage of her immobility, leaning in and kissing her lightly, then more seriously.

Amy pulled back, looking at him uncertainly, "Face, I'm not sure about this . . ."

Face smiled, not his usual roguish smile, but a warm and affectionate grin meant only for her, "You see, I on the other hand, have never been surer of anything in my life."

Amy searched his face, "No more womanizing, or casual sex, or flirting . . ."

"Only with you," Face said positively, then stopped uncertainly, "I mean, well you know . . ."

Amy grinned, "I know what you mean, Face," she said, reaching up and kissing him soundly.

Nancy pulled up outside of Charlie's, hurrying in the employee entrance with her guitar. Charlie caught sight of her in the hallway, and met her at his office door, where the backup musician he had arranged for was waiting, "It's about time you showed up!"

"Chill Charlie," Nancy said, smiling. She pulled out her guitar and looked at the musician, "Hi, John. Did Charlie give you the music?"

"I'm all set, Nan," he said. He had played with Nancy before, ad hoc, but never in a real set, "How did Charlie corner you into this?" he asked curiously.

Nancy chuckled, "Actually, Charlie had nothing to do with it," she said honestly, plucking a chord on her guitar, and quickly tuning it, "I lost a bet with a . . . with a friend."

Charlie snorted, "Seems to me he's more than a friend."

Nancy looked at Charlie with a slight smile, pointedly not denying his assertion. She turned back to John, "Ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are," John said, standing and following her out to the small riser that Charlie had set up in the end of the bar.

Noone really seemed to notice them up there. Nancy turned back and looked at John, "I'm warning you, I'm in a Shawn Colvin frame of mind. Could we start with _Stranded_?"

"Sure thing," John said. After playing a couple of tuning chords, Nancy began playing, with John providing backup up:

_Was it really two summers ago__  
__Or was it outer space__  
__We both had nowhere to go__  
__In search of a state of grace__  
__All in all we never had time__  
__When we met each other we stopped__  
__on a dime _

_Stranded . . . stranded_

_Floating nowhere  
Suspended in dreams  
That we were side by side  
We both had to see what it means  
Whenever two worlds collide  
All in all the pieces were scattered  
A world so small that nothing else  
mattered _

_Stranded . . . stranded_

_Was it really two light years past  
We left the atmosphere  
We both had to catch our breath  
Somewhere way down here  
All in all and by and by  
The tears for forgiveness  
Will hang out to dry_

_Stranded . . . stranded_

_Stranded._

At the table, Murdock turned as soon as he heard the guitar, and smiled broadly upon seeing Nancy. Her gaze was wandering over the faces in the bar, but stopped as soon as she spotted Murdock, her own smile widening to match his.

By the time the song was over, there was little other noise save the kitchen clatter, and Nancy smiled gratefully at the applause, and whistles, "Thank you."

"It's Nancy," Maggie said in surprise.

"Yep," Murdock said happily, turning his chair so he wouldn't have to crane his neck around to watch her.

Nancy sang for the next hour, with very little talking other than to introduce herself and John, and the individual songs. Towards the end of the hour, she finally leaned forward, taking a long drink from a glass of water sitting on the floor before standing up, "Whew," she said, smiling, "I'm not used to this."

She glanced back at John, and nodded then turned forward, "Well, those of you who know me, know that I generally don't like to perform in front of a crowd, so you won't be surprised to learn that I'm up here because I lost a bet," she glanced over at Murdock an amused smile lighting her face, "Any way, this next song is for HM, the man who won that bet, and . . .," Nancy could feel her cheeks flame as she continued in stark honesty, "Well, to be totally honest, a whole lot more. The song is from Shawn Colvin's newest album, and it's called _Fill Me Up_."

_Fill me up fill me up  
I'm a long way from home  
And I don't have a lot to say  
Fill me up fill me up  
Cause you're all that I've got  
And I traveled a long, long way_

Cheer me up cheer me up  
Cause I'm all alone  
And I'm taking it day by day  
Cheer me up cheer me up  
Cause you're all that I've got  
And I traveled a long, long way

I'm a bellhop now on a busy day   
And I'm starting at sunrise  
And the color of dawn from this plane that I'm on  
Is the day breaking in your eyes

I'm a still life now on a tabletop  
I'm a case study in french blue  
And it's clear to me now that the whole of my life  
I've been making my way to you

And I know where you live  
And I know who you are  
Don't get too close  
And don't go too far

And I might be alright  
If I just see the light  
I don't care if the phone don't ring  
And I'll know when it's right like a voice in the night  
And the right shade of tangerine

And I know where you live  
And I know who you are  
Don't get too close   
And don't go too far  
Don't get too close  
And promise me that you'll never go too far

Fill me up fill me up  
I'm a long way from home  
And I don't have a lot to say  
Fill me up fill me up  
Cause you're all that I've got  
And I traveled a long, long way

Cheer me up cheer me up  
Cause I'm all alone  
And I'm takin it day by day  
Fill me up fill me up   
Cause you're all that I've got  
And I traveled a long long way.

The applause was loud and long, as Nancy said her 'thank you's, and she was mobbed as she stepped down off the stage. Murdock stood up, trying to catch a glimpse of her as he headed towards the stage. He found her in the middle of a group of people, including Joe and Trixie, Jeff and a dark haired woman he assumed was Jeff's wife, and a couple of other apparently unattached men, one of whom was standing next to her, his head bent as they talked.

Joe raised a hand in greeting, but it still took him a minute to make his way through the crowd in front of the stage. Nancy smiled at the man standing next to her, and he was finally approaching close enough that he could hear her, "Thanks, Brett, I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"You gotta do this more often, Nan," Brett said earnestly, "And by the way, who is this guy you were talking about?"

Nancy had caught sight of Murdock over Brett's shoulder, and she smiled warmly at him.

"Excuse me, Brett," she said absently, brushing past him and pushing her way past the last few people separating them, "Hi."

Murdock gathered her into a big bear hug, burying his face in her hair, "I've missed you, Short Cake," he whispered against her ear.

Nancy locked her arms around his waist, "I missed you, too," she said, pulling back and looking up into his eyes.

The only problem was that the throng in front of the stage was not dispersing, and they kept getting jostled. Murdock sighed, and let her go, but grabbing her hand, "C'mon, let's see if we can find someplace a little more private."

Brett watched in surprise as Nancy and Murdock met, and then moved off towards the back hall. He looked at Jeff Kent, "So, that's the new guy, huh?"

"Actually, I would say that's _the_ guy, Brett," Jeff said, smiling as Nancy and Murdock disappeared past the 'Employees ONLY' sign.

Murdock's String 

They walked a little ways down the hall, until the noise of the bar faded some, and they were out of sight for the most part. Nancy put her back against the wall, looking up at Murdock and giggling, "Thank you for rescuing me!"

"Any time, Short Cake," he said, moving closer to her and dipping his head for a kiss. Nancy could feel her heart racing, as that light kiss became urgent, and Murdock pressed against her.

"Hey, get a room," Charlie's voice immediately dampened the mood.

Murdock stepped back, looking sheepish, "Sorry, Charlie."

"I've caught couples doin' worse, back here, HM," Charlie said, laughing, "Hell, I've done worse back here."

Stepping aside he motioned into his office, "I'm headed out to help in the bar, so you two are welcome to use my office . . .," but as Nancy and Murdock ducked into the room, Charlie chose to specify, "For talking – ONLY."

As Charlie pulled the door closed, Murdock leaned against the desk, pulling Nancy back into his arms and kissing the top of her head, "Alone at last."

Nancy sighed, "At least for a few minutes."

He put a hand up under her hair, running a thumb along her jaw line, and noting disconcertingly that it was reminiscent of the General's, "I'm still having a little trouble incorporating the fact that you're Stockwell's niece into the whole relationship thing goin' on here," he said looking at her seriously.

Nancy leaned her head against his chest, "I am really sorry I didn't tell you sooner, HM," she said apologetically.

"It's alright, Short Cake," he said, "It's just that, there are some things you should probably know about me and the General before we go too much further."

"I know," she said, "You and the General have an ugly history. I just don't see how that pertains to us."

Murdock had had quite a bit of time to think about that very issue, and stood up, pacing agitatedly, "I guess that all depends on how your Uncle reacts, and whether you're willing to chance him being totally furious with your choice of a boyfriend."

Nancy crossed her arms, watching him pace for a few moments before responding, "HM, what could be so bad? I mean, for goodness sake, it was almost 20 years ago. Maybe you should just tell me how you and my uncle know each other."

Murdock stopped and leaned on the desk, next to her, "Well, you know when you asked me about the CIA," he glanced at her, and continued when he saw her nod, "That's how I ended up in southeast Asia – I didn't follow the normal channels, I had to go and join the CIA. I was just a kid, my grandparents were both dead, the state took everything and I was living with strangers when I graduated from High School. It didn't seem like I had a lot of options for my future," he chuckled humorlessly, "Then I met this recruiter and he filled my head with all this bull about adventures flying in foreign lands . . . made it sound like a permanent vacation. I signed up then and there for a CIA cover scam in southeast Asia. I'd be flying 'supplies' and dropping flyers . . . nothing dangerous."

"But when I got to Laos, things weren't like the recruiter said. The flying was dangerous, which I didn't mind, but the rest of it really sucked. And I was a good pilot, so I quickly got pulled into other missions, where I was expected to do things other than flying."

"I had ended up on assignment with one of the General's old buddies," Murdock's gaze became introverted and unfocused as he remembered, "We were supposed to go into a south Vietnam village near the DMZ, just inside the Laos border. Our assignment was to kill everyone and make it appear that the VietCong were responsible. Women, children . . . it was brutal, and . . . unconscionable," his look was haunted, but his gaze slowly refocused on Nancy, and he stood up, "I was a mess after that assignment, and the General's buddy took pity on me. He hooked me up with Stockwell, and between the two of them, they finagled a way for me to leave the CIA."

Murdock resumed his pacing, "Don't get me wrong. The General didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart. But I was grateful just the same. I spent the next 6 months under his command in Army Intelligence, still working in Southeast Asia . . . mainly, but not solely, in Vietnam."

"I liked Army Intelligence marginally better than CIA. Honestly, what I really wanted to do was to just fly, without all the intrigue crap," he said, "Anyway, they were desperate for pilots in 'Nam about that time, and I happened to catch a commander's eye during defensive maneuvers in Khe Sahn . . ."

"That's when your and Joe's paths crossed," Nancy said suddenly.

Murdock nodded, "Yea, but I wasn't a slick pilot," he said, "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The base commander pulled me in when the hoopla had died down and asked me whether I was interested in transferring into his unit. Needless to say, I was more than willing, but I knew Stockwell would never go for it."

"So, I took matters into my own hands," he said with a shrug, "The General had come to trust me, and I managed to intercept the transfer papers when they came into his office. I forged his signature and sent them through. He didn't even realize what was happening until the day the orders arrived for me to ship out."

"I really thought he'd have me thrown in the stockade," Murdock said, shaking his head, "But apparently they needed pilots badly enough that the whole mess was hushed up. It was after that, that I met Hannibal and the Team. We crewed for them on a couple missions, after which he approached me about transferring to Special Forces. With my background in black ops, he figured it was a natural fit, and I guess he was right."

"But the General didn't let you off the hook for betraying him, did he?" Nancy asked.

"I guess in the end he didn't, no," Murdock agreed, "But at first his hands were tied with political intricacies. He couldn't retaliate without incurring the wrath of other brass, so he let it slide. Then, we were taken prisoner, and after that . . . well, I wasn't really quite right after the POW camp, and I think in his own way, he felt sorry for me."

"But he never stopped watching and waiting. I think he was just biding his time, looking for the right situation to come along to make it worthwhile to call in the debt he felt I owed him," he stopped his pacing and looked at her with a shrug, "In the end, though, you don't get something for nothing. Stockwell and I have both benefited from, and paid for, our relationship over the years. And this . . . you and me . . . it's not going to make him happy. I figured it would be bad, knowing you were an Abel Agent. Finding out you're his niece . . . ," Murdock shook his head, "He's going to be livid."

"It will just be another transaction at the bank of Stockwell," Nancy said, she had crossed her arms, and Murdock recognized the signs that she was drawing away, "Are _you_ sure you want to go that far back into debt with him, after finally getting your ledger back into the black?"

"Being in the General's debt doesn't really bother me," Murdock said, looking at her seriously, "I think you're worth it. But I'll understand if you don't want to deal with the personal repercussions a relationship with me could have. Stockwell is your only uncle and I don't want to come between you."

"Like I told you before, the only thing that comes between my uncle and me, is . . . well, my uncle and me," Nancy said, taking his hands, she continued earnestly, "HM, I love you. I'm willing to endure the wrath of the General for this relationship if you are."

Murdock squeezed her hands reassuringly, "Well then I guess that means we're ready to weather that second hurricane front you were warning me about."

"Which, brings me to another subject that I was hoping to discuss with you . . ."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, then pulled them out, a quizzical look on his face. He patted his front searchingly, smiling as he found what he was looking for in an inner pocket. He reached in and pulled out a ring box.

Opening it, he took the ring out, and set the box on the desk. Then he took a step forward, knelt down on one knee and took her hand, "Will you marry me?"

"Not wasting any time, are you?" Nancy asked to cover her surprise.

"I've got you nodding in the right direction. Hate not to take advantage of that," he said teasingly, "Besides, I've had my life on hold for far too long already."

"I still don't think you fully understand what you're getting yourself into . . ." Nancy said with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

"Does that mean you won't marry me?" Murdock's look was very serious.

Nancy took a deep breath and released it, her gaze very solemn as she responded, "I will marry you," then a teasing light entered her eyes and she grinned, "I just wanted it on record that I told you that you're probably going to regret it."

He slipped the ring, a white gold band with swirls carved on either side of a sapphire and diamond setting, onto her finger and stood, "Duly noted and disregarded," he said, taking her other hand as he stood up and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her firmly.

They wandered out to the table awhile later, joining the others who had finally ordered dinner. Murdock announced their engagement excitedly, and a bottle of champaign was ordered to mark the occasion. When it came time to leave, everyone but Nancy loaded into the limo to head back to the Compound for the night.

Murdock looked at her ruefully, "We'll see you first thing in the morning, right?"

"I'll be by as soon as I wake up," Nancy assured him.

"See you then, Short Cake," he said.

Finally . . . the Pardons 

Nancy awoke to a ringing phone. She answered shortly, and was surprised to be greeted by her Uncle's voice, "I have the pardons in hand," he said, "I thought you might like to be there to present them to the Team."

"Yes, thank you Uncle," Nancy said, "I would like that very much."

"I'll see you at the Compound in an hour."

Nancy arrived at the Compound just a few minutes ahead of the General, and was greeted enthusiastically by everyone, though Murdock prudently kept his distance, not trusting himself to get too close.

The General strode in at 10 am on the dot, and stopped at the front of the room, "Gentlemen, I have those little pieces of paper that you've waited so long for," Stockwell said with uncharacteristic levity.

He motioned Nancy up beside him and handed her the certificates, "I thought you might like to do the honors."

Hannibal, BA and Face stepped forward, and Nancy smiled as she handed each their respective certificate.

Face looked at his for a long time, his smile nearly blinding, "I always wanted the President's autograph," he said facetiously.

"Congratulations, guys," Nancy said familiarly, smiling broadly, "You really deserve it."

She hugged each of them warmly, and Hannibal turned, holding out his hand to Stockwell, "General, it's been a hell of a ride, and I trust that you won't let us get bored."

Stockwell took the offered hand in firm handshake, allowing a smile to cross his face, "It's been a privilege to work with you and your men, Colonel. I look forward to a long and mutually beneficial working relationship. Welcome aboard, gentlemen," he added, shaking hands with BA, Face, and Murdock in turn.

Stockwell stood back, "As of right now, the A-Team is on sabbatical. You have 6 months to get your personal affairs in order and return to Langley for your first assignment as Abel agents. You're welcome to remain here at the Compound until you can find other accommodations. Until April, please relax and enjoy your time off – you've earned it."

He turned to leave, waiting for Nancy to join him, which she did, following him out the front door. He looked at her discerningly, finally nodding in approval, "You've come to grips with how this little project played out," he said, "It's good to see you finally relaxing."

"Yes, well, Major Sullivan explained that I needed to view the pardon situation from the Team's perspective," Nancy said, adding, "They're happy with the outcome, and therefore so am I."

"How about if we have some breakfast and discuss your proposal regarding your retirement from field agent work," he suggested.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Nancy said, smiling ruefully, "I already have breakfast plans. Can I take a rain check?"

"Certainly," he said brusquely, "Just call Carla sometime next week and make an appointment."

Nancy nodded, "I will."

She watched until the General's limo was out of site, then headed back into the Compound to join breakfast preparations already underway. The day passed quickly. They spent it ensconced at the Compound, visiting, catching up, and getting to know each other, again. It was almost as if the fact that they could leave the Compound encouraged just the opposite. Late that evening, after a leisurely dinner, Nancy and Murdock said their 'good night's and headed to Nancy's townhouse. After Nancy had locked the door behind them, Murdock swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. They had a lot of catching up to do.

The General Knows 

Murdock woke up and took a deep breath, smiling at the sweet smell of Nancy's hair, as he shifted slightly so he could settle her more closely against himself. Asked a week ago, he probably would have given even odds that he'd end up with what he wanted. Now he could see the future clearly, a future with Nancy and a family, and his best friends close by. All in all, he couldn't have been more content.

It was sometime later when Nancy finally stirred, and rolled over to look at him, "Good morning," she said with a sleepy smile.

"Very good morning," he agreed, leaning down and kissing her warmly.

Nancy stretched and looked at the clock, "8:00?" she said musingly, "We should get moving. We told Maggie and Hannibal we'd be at the Compound for breakfast."

"I think they'll understand if we skip breakfast this morning," Murdock said suggestively.

Nancy put a hand on his chest, though she didn't refuse the kiss as she sat up, "We promised we'd be there," she said chidingly.

Murdock heaved an exaggerated sigh, "OK . . . How 'bout if I go down and start coffee," he grinned broadly, "then I'll come back up to join you in the shower in a couple minutes."

"Deal," Nancy said, heading to the closet to gather some clothes.

Murdock managed to catch her for one last kiss before she disappeared into the bathroom. He pulled on his pants and hurried down the stairs, as he heard the shower start. Just as he was about to turn into the kitchen, the doorbell rang, and without thinking he walked over, unlocked it, and opened the door to find the General standing there.

Murdock took it in stride, and smiled at Stockwell, "Good morning, General. Would you like to come in?"

Stockwell walked through the door, which Murdock closed behind him, "Where's Nancy?" he asked gruffly

Murdock pursed his lips, "She's in the shower," he said, 'and waiting for me," he thought to himself, "I was just . . . uh, starting some coffee," he added in explanation.

Stockwell turned and looked at him expectantly, and Murdock nodded at the unspoken request, "Right, I'll just go get Nan. Make yourself at home," and turned and walked up the stairs.

In the bedroom, he grabbed his t-shirt as he walked through to the bathroom, where the shower was still running.

Nancy stuck her head out and smiled at him invitingly, "That was quick. Gonna come join me?"

Murdock pulled his t-shirt over his head, "Your uncle is here," he said without preamble.

The shower curtain snapped shut. The water turned off a few seconds later, and Nancy grabbed a towel, "What's the occasion? I honestly can't remember the last time my uncle actually stopped by my place when it wasn't work related."

"I don't know," Murdock said, as the shower curtain opened again, and Nancy stepped out, "But he didn't appear to be all that surprised when I opened the door."

Nancy shrugged as she started getting dressed, "There could be several reasons why he stopped," she said cryptically.

Murdock watched for a moment, then caught her in an impulsive bear hug, "We'll get through this alright," he said earnestly.

Nancy smiled at him, and gave him a peck on the lips, "Of course," she said confidently, "Now let me go so I can get dressed."

He pouted, "Actually, your uncle is really screwing up my plans for the morning," he said, letting her go.

Nancy shooed him out of the bathroom and finished getting dressed. When she walked out into the bedroom, Murdock was sitting there, waiting for her and she chuckled at him, "Afraid to face him alone?"

"I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid," Murdock replied, grinning, "Besides, he's not my uncle, he's yours."

"Yea, lucky me," Nancy said, her expression turning grim as she headed out the bedroom door.

Her uncle stood and faced her as she came down the stairs, with Murdock following closely behind. He looked at Murdock severely, before his gaze focused on her, "Is there something you'd care to share?" he asked pointedly.

Nancy's considered her uncle thoughtfully for a minute, then responded, "Nothing comes to mind."

It was all Murdock could do to keep from letting out an audible groan, as Stockwell's eyes flashed to him, "Captain, would you please leave?"

"This is _my_ house, and _I_ will decide who stays, and who leaves . . .," Nancy started, her anger flaring.

Murdock put a restraining hand on her shoulder and said hastily, "I'll go in the kitchen and make coffee, so you two can talk."

Murdock could feel the General's eyes boring a hole through the back of his head as he disappeared into the kitchen. Nancy was taking anything but a conciliatory tact with him. He had initially planned to stay and try to keep Nancy in check, but if Stockwell wanted him gone, then he could deal with her on his own.

Stockwell waited until Murdock was out of sight in the kitchen, "What is he doing here?"

"You mean my fiancé?" Nancy asked innocently. In the kitchen, Murdock put a hand over his eyes in incredulity. He could hear the entire conversation clearly.

"You have to be joking," Stockwell said disbelievingly, "You've only known him for 3 weeks." What is it with this family and time? Murdock wondered

"Actually, we've known one another for over a month," Nancy corrected, "Not that it's any of your business." Well, technically it probably was his business, Murdock thought guiltily.

"Is he why you're giving up your field agent status?" the General asked. Murdock's jaw dropped, and he wondered idly what else he didn't know about Nancy's actions over the last week.

"I have been considering my options beyond Stockwell Enterprises for several months, Uncle," Nancy said flatly, "Though meeting HM was definitely a catalyst for my decision, it was not the deciding factor." Dodged that bullet, Murdock thought.

"And what is this that I hear you've given money to Riley Adams?" Stockwell asked, "The man has no business sense whatsoever. You are throwing your money away." Who the hell is Riley Adams, Murdock wondered, and why is Nancy giving him money?

"I did not 'give' Riley money," Nancy said irritably, "I bought into his business. I think it's a worthwhile investment. And while I agree that Riley isn't a great manager, I think I can fill that gap. He's a damn good PI." OK, Murdock thought, I'm catching up.

"_That_ is what you plan for your _career_?" Stockwell asked incredulously, "Partnering with a broken-down PI in a bankrupt, and, I use the term loosely here, business? What about Stockwell Enterprises? When you retired as field agent, I assumed you would be taking over some of the administrative duties and begin phasing in as the head of the company. Though to be honest, that whole idea is compromised by your current choice of . . . companion." Another left turn, Murdock thought in frustration.

Murdock could practically hear Nancy's temper explode from the kitchen, even though her voice was quietly calm as she responded to her uncle, "You have ignored every suggestion I've ever made regarding Stockwell Enterprises. I want to be more than just a figure head, I want to make a substantive contribution. Riley values my input, so I know I'll get that chance at Adams' Investigations. As for my choice of companions, you'd better get used to it, because it isn't likely to change. Now, if you're quite finished degrading my decisions in all _facets_ of my life, perhaps you'd be kind enough to _leave_."

The silence after that was deafening. The General considered his niece for a solid minute, then turned and stalked to the door, "Don't expect me to bail you out if you loose your shirt with Riley Adams, like I did with the FBI," he said staunchly, turning to look at her with his hand on the doorknob, "If you've signed partnership papers with Adams, I expect you have insulated Stockwell Enterprises from any monetary repercussions from business failure."

"I never asked you to bail me out of anything, and regardless of what you think, I am not stupid," Nancy said angrily, "Your precious company is completely safe from any 'repercussions' of my partnership with Riley. If you don't trust that, perhaps you'd like to buy me out of Stockwell Enterprises . . ."

"I may do that," Stockwell said flatly.

"Make an offer," Nancy said challengingly.

The General's jaw clenched, and he prudently decided to hold his tongue and walk away. He turned and slammed out of the townhouse without another word.

Murdock walked out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee and found Nancy, feet planted shoulder width apart, hands clenched into fists at her side, and the color high on her cheeks, as she gazed after her uncle.

"Nan?" he ventured quietly, "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," she said flatly. As her gaze refocused on Murdock's worried face, her stance relaxed somewhat, and she tried to smile, though it looked more like a grimace, "I'm fine, really," she tried to assure him.

Murdock held out her cup of coffee, "Here, let's sit down and talk," he said solicitously, "You need to work this out."

Nancy's eyes snapped, "There's nothing that needs to be worked out," She said irritably, her adrenalin still surging.

Murdock held up a hand, "I'm just saying that sometimes it helps to talk things out," he said reasonably, "You and your uncle were both angry, and once you calm down you'll be able to see his point of view and he'll be . . ."

"Calm down and see his point of view?" Nancy interrupted. Her nerves were still raw, and it felt like Murdock was stepping all over them, "His point of view is, and always has been, that I'm a fuckup. Is that what I'm supposed to calm down and understand?" she looked at him challengingly.

"That's not what I mean," Murdock said carefully, "It's just that he is trying to get up to speed with changes you're making in your life, and I think in his own way, he's worried about you. In all honesty, I can understand where he's coming from."

"Am I understanding this right," Nancy asked in amazement, "You're taking his side? You do understand that _you_ are one of the decisions that he disagrees with?"

"I know, and I'm not saying I agree with his point of view, I'm just saying that I can understand it," Murdock said, his patience beginning to wear thin, "I have to admit, there were a couple revelations during that little discussion that surprised _me_. I mean, do you talk to anyone about these kind of life-changing decisions before you make them?"

"So now I should have discussed my decision to quit Stockwell Enterprises with you first?" Nancy asked.

"No . . . well, maybe . . . at least mentioned it," Murdock sighed, "It's just that it would have been nice to know the playing field before the General showed up on our doorstep . . ."

"_My_ doorstep," Nancy corrected, "If you think just because I've agreed to marry you that means you can control my life, you've got another think coming. It's still _my life_, and I can make my own decisions."

Murdock crossed his arms staring steadfastly at the floor trying to keep his own temper under control. When he looked up to find a defiant Nancy fuming in front of him, her stance indicating that she still had a lot of fight left in her, he decided that a timeout was definitely in order, before either one of them said anything else they regretted. He sighed, walked towards the door, and grabbed his jacket. As he put a hand on the doorknob, he felt Nancy's hand on his arm, and turned to look at her.

"Where are you going?" she asked impatiently.

"I'm going to cool off. I think you need to do the same," he said quietly, "And for the record, I don't want to control your life, I want to be a part of it. That's going to be difficult if you continue to keep things from me."

Separate Ways 

Murdock walked out the door, leaving Nancy standing in the doorway. As he disappeared down the road, Nancy slammed the door, hitting it in frustration with her fist. She stood there with her head against the door, going over the last several minutes in her head. She walked into the kitchen and picked up the telephone, dialing her father's number, before dropping despondently into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Her father answered on the first ring, "Hello, Clay here."

"Hi, Dad," Nancy said tightly.

"Sweetheart?" her father responded in surprise, "What's wrong?"

"Dad," she took a deep shuddering breath, "Dad, I really screwed up."

In Chicago, Carl Clay, a distinguished, if slightly imposing man, at 6'2", with broad shoulders and brown hair, graying at the temples, sat down on the couch, a worried expression on his handsome features. This was very uncharacteristic of his usually self-assured and independent daughter, "Honey, just tell me what happened," he said calmly.

Nancy dropped her head in her hand, reluctant tears falling onto her cheeks, "I made him leave . . . I didn't mean to, but Uncle had me so worked up, and then he came out and . . ." her thoughts and words were tumbling over each other and coming out randomly.

"Whoa, Nancy," her father said sharply, bringing her incoherent ramblings to a halt, "Why don't you start at the beginning. Who is this you're talking about?"

"HM Mudock," she said quietly, "my fiancé."

Carl sat in shocked silence for a moment, but quickly recovered, "OK, you are definitely going to have to get me up to speed. . ."

Murdock drove around for awhile. The guys were still celebrating their pardons, and he hated to go rain on their parade with his problems. He ended up pulling in at the airfield. After all, Doc had started this whole mess.

When he walked in, Doc was busy with several customers at the desk. Doc waved in greeting, but it was obviously going to be awhile before he had time to talk, so Murdock wandered out onto the tarmac, heading towards Stockwell's hangar more out of habit then intention.

The jet was in the hangar, and Jeff was there, sitting at the desk reading a newspaper. He turned as Murdock entered, "Hi HM," he said, then took in Murdock's downcast expression, and asked, "What's up?"

Murdock walked alongside the jet, running a hand over the smooth metal of the underbelly, before turning towards Jeff and responding, "Nothing . . ."

Jeff shook his head in disbelief, "C'mon, Murdock. You got a face longer than the General's list of known enemies. What's goin' on?"

Murdock dropped into a nearby chair and looked at Jeff ruefully, "Unfortunately, I'm probably on that list," he sighed, deciding that Jeff would make as good an audience as Doc, "The General showed up at Nancy's place this morning."

"And you were there . . ." Jeff said leadingly, setting the newspaper aside and turning his full attention to Murdock.

"I answered the door," Murdock said, then snorted, "Half dressed!"

Jeff laughed, but quickly sobered, "How did Stockwell react?"

"About like you'd expect," Murdock said, "Then he and Nancy got into a huge fight . . . over my presence, as well as several other things."

"That, in and of itself, is not unusual, you know," Jeff said flatly.

"Oh, I'm on a steep learning curve right now, but I'm quickly getting the gist of their relationship," Murdock said, "Anyway, after the General left, Nancy ended up rounding on me . . ."

"Caught in the backwash," Jeff said sympathetically, "Been there, done that."

Murdock leaned forward, and looked at Jeff shrewdly, "You think that's what it was?" he didn't sound convinced, "I figured she was second-guessing her decision to marry me."

Jeff's eyebrows shot up, "Nancy agreed to marry you?"

An involuntary smile curved Murdock's lips as he leaned back and recalled the evening in Charlie's office, "Yea," the smiled faded, "Though at the time she did say she thought I would come to regret it."

"That I can't argue with," Jeff said, smiling, "But as far as the backwash thing, yea, I think that's what it was. Nan gets her adrenalin pumping, and she'll lash out at anything that moves. It sucks at the time, but the makeup points are almost worth it."

Murdock looked at him questioningly, and Jeff explained, a reminiscent smile on his face, "Yeah, Nan was always pretty passionate after an argument. Maybe it was the after-effects of the adrenalin," he said thoughtfully, then his eyes refocused on Murdock, who was looking at him with an inexplicable expression, "Um, sorry, probably more then you wanted to hear . . ."

Murdock pursed his lips, "Yea, especially from you."

"Sorry about that," Jeff said apologetically, "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it'll pass. Whatever she said, I'm sure she didn't mean it – at least not totally."

Murdock sighed, "I guess that's encouraging."

Nancy spent the next 45 minutes recounting the last few weeks to her father, who sat in Chicago alternately wishing he could shake HM Murdock's hand, and knock his brother-in-law's lights out. Though in all honesty, he couldn't say that the fantasy of cold-cocking Hunt was anything new.

"Nancy," he said, as her narrative finally came to a close, "Do you really love this guy?"

Nancy was quiet for a moment, which worried her father. He certainly hoped Hunt wasn't causing her to rethink her decision to marry the pilot. To his relief she responded, "Yes, Dad, I love HM."

"And given what you've told me, I'd say he loves you as well," Nancy nodded, she couldn't argue with that. After all, she'd given him ample opportunity to walk away. Then a sick feeling developed in the pit of her stomach, actually, about an hour ago, he had walked away.

"Then I don't really see what the issue is. Find HM and tell him you're sorry," Carl said matter-of-factly, "Everyone has arguments. It's perfectly natural. Giving and accepting apologies are part and parcel to having a lasting relationship."

Coming to Grips 

Doc finally got the last of the customers tended to, and looked for Murdock. Not finding him in the immediate vicinity of the main hangar, he asked the new mechanic to watch the desk, and headed towards Stockwell's hangar.

Inside he found Murdock and Jeff, "So, HM, did you need something?"

Murdock hesitated, and Jeff decided to sum things up succinctly for Doc, "He and Nan got engaged and just had their first major argument this morning."

"Better get used to that," Doc said practically. Then, as the meaning of the first part of Jeff's statement sunk in, he added skeptically, "She _agreed_ to marry you?"

"Yes, she agreed," Murdock said irritably, "Why does everyone have such a hard time believing that? Am I such a lousy catch?"

Jeff and Doc both laughed out loud, "Sorry, HM, it doesn't really have anything to do with you," Doc assured him, still chuckling "Nancy's just never struck me as, well, you know, the marryin' type."

"Oh," Murdock said quietly.

Doc crossed his arms, as the laughter died, "So, what was the fight about?"

Murdock crossed his arms, "I guess in the end, she was angry because she figured that I was trying to control her life. But all I really wanted was to know what the heck was going on in it," he looked at Jeff and Doc directly, "Did you know she quit Stockwell Enterprises and threw in with some PI named Riley Adams?"

Doc raised his eyebrows, "I bet that pissed her uncle right off."

Jeff chuckled, "Yea, especially considering she picked Adams over him."

"Who is Riley Adams?" Murdock asked.

"Riley's a good egg," Doc said, "Used to be a homicide detective with the NYPD, until his partner was killed and he was badly hurt. There was a big internal investigation, and Riley was cleared of all charges, but it left a real bad taste in his mouth. He left the department, and decided to enter private practice - started his own private investigation business about 15 years ago, based here in Langley. He's had a rough row to hoe, given his past."

"Yea, Riley's OK," Jeff said, "But he hasn't exactly helped himself with the boozing and bar fights."

"He's a good PI," Doc said sharply.

"How does Nan know him?" Murdock asked, trying to head off an argument.

"I heard she met him when she interviewed for an operative position with him, before she accepted the position with Stockwell Enterprises. Of course, that was before I knew either one of them," Jeff said.

"That's true," Doc said carefully, "Riley helped her out after a rather ugly incident when she was still with the FBI. He was a good friend to her when she really needed one. Unfortunately, she was too motivated by a desire to impress her uncle, and took the job he offered. I sometime wonder what would have happened if she'd taken the job with Riley, instead . . ."

"The FBI . . .," Murdock asked, ruminatively, "Her uncle mentioned bailing her out of a problem with the FBI."

Doc looked at him, and nodded, "Yea, well, Riley really helped her get back on her feet, but her Uncle did smooth things over with the Bureau. The whole thing was unfortunate, and the Bureau, in my opinion, was way to willing to chalk her problems up to her being a woman."

"She never told me she worked for the FBI . . . she told me she worked . . ." he thought back to the long conversation they'd had during their first date, realizing on reflection that she'd been pretty sparing with actual information, "in a 'more applied job' – I figured at the time she meant like a counseling job, since I knew she had a psych degree . . ."

Jeff chuckled, "No, she was recruited by the FBI for their profiling section. It's called the Behavioral Analysis Unit, now, but she was recruited when they were still organizing. She was a real up and comer at the Bureau. Unusual for a woman, even now."

"What happened?" Murdock asked.

Jeff and Doc looked at each other, and Murdock could sense the hesitance to talk about it, "C'mon, guys," he said pleadingly, "You know I'll never get a straight answer out of Nan. At least give me a clue."

"Nancy was kidnapped by a serial killer . . ." Doc said flatly.

". . . one she'd been profiling," Jeff added.

Murdock gaped at them, "What happened?"

They both shrugged, "Nan would never talk about it, at least not to me," Jeff said quietly, "But I think it was pretty bad."

"She was in the hospital for over a week when they finally found her," Doc said, "She wasn't the same girl after that. Whatever happened, it changed her."

Murdock crossed his arms, "I wonder what else I don't know . . ." he said thoughtfully.

"You know what's important, boy," Doc said sternly, and Murdock's gaze focused on him as he continued, "What we're telling you are just a few of the things that shaped her. You know who she is, now. What happened to her then is just ancient history."

"Doc's right, HM," Jeff said earnestly, "You fell in love with Nan because of who she is. And you've gotten past the worst of that, trust me. The rest is just history, and you've got the rest of your life to learn that."

Murdock stood up, "I guess you're both right. Truth is, nothing you've told me has changed how I feel about her, anyway," he chuckled, "I'm kinda getting used to the little surprises at every turn."

"I always figured that was part of the attraction," Jeff said, laughing, "You wouldn't want to get bored!"

"No chance of that!" Doc said, joining in the laughter.

Nancy hung up the phone and sighed. Her father was right, she was going to have to find Murdock and apologize. Her first stop would be the Compound – he'd probably want to talk to someone, and Hannibal or Face would be his most likely sounding boards.

She pulled into the parking area in front of the Compound, and could feel her heart drop into her feet as she realized that Murdock's truck wasn't there. She was sorely tempted to turn around and pull out without even stopping, but Face was lounging on the front porch and had already raised a hand in greeting.

She turned the ignition off and got out of the car, walking slowly up to the porch steps, "Hey Face. Have you seen HM?"

He looked at her quizzically, "Haven't seen him since last night. I figured he was with you."

"No, we . . .," her voice caught, and she took a deep calming breath, then looked up at Face dejectedly, "We had an argument this morning, after my uncle left, and . . . well, he walked out," she finished flatly.

Face raised an eyebrow, "And what did he say when he left?"

"Said he was going to go cool off," Nancy said, she sighed and sat down on the step, her back against the rail, "He told me that I should do the same."

Face smiled, and walked down the steps, sitting next to her, "So, have you cooled off?" he asked.

"Yes. But before I did, I said things . . . hurtful things, that I didn't mean," she said miserably.

Face shrugged, "Don't we all," he said dismissively, "Murdock just left 'cause he didn't want to join you. He'll be back."

Nancy looked at him searchingly, but he seemed so certain, that she took some comfort from that, "I hope you're right," she said, sitting up straighter, "But I wasn't going to wait for him to come back. I figured for sure he'd be here . . ."

"Well, he hasn't shown up here, yet," Face said, then continued thoughtfully, "Did you try the airfield? That would be my next guess."

Nancy stood, nodding in agreement, "You're right, that's probably where he is! Thanks, Face," she said as she hurried back to her car.

"You're welcome," Face said, smiling after her, "Should I tell Maggie you'll be back for supper?"

Reconciliation 

Nancy arrived at the airfield only to find the main hangar empty. Doc wasn't even around, so she headed out to Stockwell's hangar. As she approached, she heard voices inside, "He shoots, he scores! And the crowd goes wild!" She recognized Murdock's voice, and opened the door with some trepidation.

The scene before her made her grin, Doc was refereeing a paper wad basketball game between Murdock and Jeff. Jeff had just scooped a paper wad out of the trash basket, and was preparing to take it out, throwing it from hand to hand and dodging Murdock. He managed to make an end run around the pilot, and slam dunked the paper wad. Standing up and jogging around with his hands over his head in victory dance, while Murdock retrieved the paper wad from the trash basket. Jeff was the first one to notice Nancy.

Jeff lowered his arms, then raised a hand in greeting, a sheepish grin on his face, "Hello, Nancy."

Murdock swung around, and Nancy was relieved to see the big smile on his face, "Hey, Short Cake!" he said happily.

Turning, he tossed the paper wad to Jeff, "I forfeit," he said easily, "I'll see you guys later. Thanks!"

He turned and jogged the few steps to Nancy, putting an arm around her shoulders and steering her out of the hangar.

When the hangar door had closed behind them, they headed towards Aunt Bea, arms around each other. But they didn't speak until they were at the airplane.

Nancy turned to face him, her arms crossed, and her expression very repentant, "HM, I am so sorry about this morning," she said quietly, "I didn't mean what I said. I was just angry with Uncle, and you were . . . convenient, for taking out my frustration. But that is no excuse for the way I behaved. I'm sorry, really, really sorry."

He smiled gently at her, "I forgive you," he said simply.

She looked at him uncertainly, "That's it. You forgive me?"

Murdock shrugged, "Were you expecting something else?"

"You aren't angry?"

"I was angry, and maybe a little hurt and . . . worried that you were rethinking your decision to marry me," he said seriously, then shrugged, "But I'm OK now. How about you?"

"HM, I never doubted agreeing to marry you, please believe me," Nancy said earnestly, "I was just stinging from what Uncle said, and you kinda got caught . . ."

". . . in the backwash," Murdock finished for her, smiling, "That's what Jeff said."

Nancy was caught off-guard, not having considered who Murdock had been talking to, "What else did Jeff say?" she asked warily.

"Well, actually, Jeff's advise was very insightful and helpful," he said, as his brown eyes took on a mischievous glint, "He told me that you and your uncle fighting wasn't unusual, and that I could expect to get caught in the backwash of your adrenalin rush pretty regularly," Murdock was struggling not to grin too widely, "and that the makeup sex was almost worth it."

Nancy's cheeks flamed, "He has a lot of nerve . . .," she started sputtering angrily.

Murdock couldn't hold back anymore and began laughing out loud, as he gathered a still-fuming Nancy into his arms, "That reminded me that your Uncle had interrupted my plans for this morning," he said suggestively.

Nancy's fuse went out almost immediately, as she stopped struggling, and put her hands against his chest, "Well, maybe we should head back home and pick up where we left off," she said with a smile, "After all Maggie's not expecting us until dinner now."

"She may not see us until breakfast tomorrow," Murdock stated simply, leaning down to cover Nancy's mouth with his, as her arms slipped up around his neck.

Doc and Jeff walked out of the hangar a few minutes behind Nancy and Murdock, just in time to see them locked together next to Aunt Bea.

Jeff chuckled, "Looks like they've made up."

"Yea," Doc agreed, smiling thoughtfully, "I think maybe Murdock has what it takes to keep that little firecracker in line."

"I don't know about keeping her in line," Jeff said thoughtfully, "But he does seem to be able to weather her rather stormy personality without losing himself."

"I hope so," Doc said, "They both deserve some happiness."

THE END 


End file.
